Demented Torment
by DarkObscurity
Summary: Complete! The stories tell of a banshee in the caves, but others know differently. The screams of agony heard on quiet nights are not from a fey woman of death, but from a wizard, caught up in a misery of memories. Possible slash. Review honestly please!
1. Shards Of A Broken Life

The stark and desolate eyes scanned the landscape lifelessly, blindly, and no emotion flickered behind those shuttered orbs, no response to the dazzling light that splayed through the weightless clouds as the sun made its presence known. The light spread across the world quickly, and those eyes followed its progression, not caring. The sunlight reached the base of mountain which held the cave from which those eyes peered, and still the creature remained unmoved. The light climbed up the mountain rapidly, toward the cave, and then suddenly the light spilled across the body of a man. His skin was the color of alabaster, and was silky smooth, flawless. The sun hadn't touched that skin in many years, countless years. The deep, emerald green eyes glinted as the sun spilled across them, and something within him moved. A tuft of raven hair swept across his brow, and he swept it aside, unthinking.

Clasped within his trembling right hand was a hand gun, and his eyes roamed to it absently. He knew what he had to do with it, knew what he wanted to do with it, but somehow, couldn't find it within himself to do it. He shuddered violently, his back clenching, spine aching, arms bunching. He couldn't do it.

Not yet.

The sun was blindingly bright, yet he saw through its overpowering rays, to the world stretched beyond.

That world, untouched by the chaos that tormented him in his every waking thought and even more in his sleep. That world which didn't have the vision of its two best and only true friends being murdered while it watched, while it lived, while it screamed. That world with no knowledge of the rage and pain that swelled within his breast, of the fury and power that surged out of his wand.

His eyes shifted as a small movement erupted off to his left, but he forced those endless green orbs to still. He knew that it was just some kind of field rat, knew that it was just maybe a snake. Nothing that could truly hurt him. Nothing that could cause him more pain than he already resided in.

The thought of his pain brought it crashing down on him in a torrent of memories and thoughts, and as tears filled those emerald windows, the handgun slipped from numbed fingertips to fall with an echoing thud on the cavern floor. His hands came up to cover his face, that hideous face, the face marred by that unseemly scar.

To him it was a monstrosity, a sign of the worst kind of disgust, impossible to be ignored or looked over, impossible to be excused. Yet to you and me, it would be nothing more than a little, white scar, in the shape of a little, white lightening bolt. 


	2. Are Scattered Ashes

Quick footsteps, rap, tap, tapping on the hard marble floors. Smooth raven robes, billowing in the hurried rush of air following behind the rapidly moving figure. 

Heartbeat thumping behind a heaving chest. Tension evident in tight shoulders. Uncomfortable weight in an empty stomach. Stomach empty for days on end. No time, no time, no time.

Frantic heartbeat. Frantic breath. Tense and ready.

"Where is he?" The thundering voice exploded through the gigantic room, and those feet stilled to a uneasy halt. The voice was never angry, but he did so hate to disappoint his leader.

"Nobody knows." he faltered uneasily. "He seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet, sir. We can't seem to find him anywhere."

"That doesn't bode well, now, does it? Please, I don't think you realize how important this is. A young man's life is in jeopardy. And not just any young man, child. This particular young man was a vital player in bringing down the Dark Lord. I think, perchance, that it would be nice to find this young man and bring him home."

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore. I'll try my hardest."

"Thank you, Smith. This boy is important to us."

"I understand that, sir. I only wish I could find him more quickly."

"Naturally. That will be all."

The form of the American wizard retreated, and the gray-haired old man sighed. "Where have you gone, boy?" he whispered into the still air. "We're worried sick about you."

* * *

Screams echoing throughout the tiny enclosure. Screaming. Terror… oh, God, the terror in her young voice. His fists were already bloodied from pounding on the bewitched substance surrounding him, and he could do nothing else. He watched through bloodshot eyes as they tortured one of his two best friends, his voice long since gone hoarse, his mind long since in shambles. 

They dragged his other friend out by the hair, the boy kicking and twisting the entire way. Three surrounded him when they lay him down, their heavy cloaks billowing to a standstill, blocking the youth from his view.

Strength surged into his weakened limbs as the obstruction was moved and he saw the clear intention of the attackers.

His fists connected to the glassy substance again, pounding, tearing, clawing the blemished surface. Fingernails torn free from his bloodied flesh, his mind operating nowhere above a rabbit in a trap, no more rational than a wolf cornered.

He slammed himself bodily against his prison walls, the torture they'd inflicted on his person long forgotten in fear of his friends' safety. He screamed once more, his bloodied throat protesting with a croak and a rasp, and melted to the floor in a defeated puddle as one of the tormentors raised their wand and uttered a sole word. "Crucio," he rasped, his voice low but as loud as a scream to the imprisoned boy's ears, even through the enclosure. Or perhaps because of it.

The red haired boy began to twitch, and the eyes of the observer slid closed in defeat as tears welled. Soon, he knew, he would hear the next stage of the process, the process they'd made him watch at least ten times, by then. The red haired boy began to gasp, and the imprisoned one clenched his eyes closed. No, no, nooo.

Tears streamed steadily down his cheeks through his clenches eyelids. He shook his head, counting the seconds.

"Avada kadavra," that voice rasped, and in spite of himself, he screamed, his fist raking across the glass one last time before he dissolved into tears and moans, and his own wounds, along with the exhaustion of fighting the glassy prison, swept across his mind. Consciousness slipped from his loosened grasp, and he slid into cold oblivion gratefully.

* * *

His fists ached, oh so badly. He awoke with a start and a scream, the name on his lips his best friend's. His hands sought the nearby glassy substance, his fear rising and swallowing him up. He felt his blood streaking the wall in slick yet sticky streaks, and felt the impure surface rip at his torn flesh even more. 

Yet there was darkness.

There'd never been darkness.

He could hear her screaming, still. They were still hurting her…

He bellowed into the darkness, and when his own voice echoed back to him, it blocked out the sound of her tortured mewling. He came to himself with a start, his eyes finding the entrance of the cave, where moonlight spilled in softly.

He took a calming breath, his eyes roaming the cave walls, where, in his tormented sleep, he had torn at the walls. Not once did his eyes search the wounds on his hands. He never cared to know how badly he had scarred himself while in memory's grasp.

It happened every night, without fail. He dreamed of them, their death, and every night, the cave's wall rent the flesh from his fingers as he clawed to get out of the glassy prison. It wouldn't help to leave the cave, for the cave's inevitable echo was the only thing which would block out the sound of her screams, the sight of his body twitching.

"Ron, Hermione, how could you leave me here?" he murmured, the pain in his chapped and swollen lips dulled by the pain in his heart and mind. "I was supposed to come with you," he continued, throat raw. "We were supposed to stay together forever!"

"Is this your idea of forever?"

"Is this your idea of being my _friend_?"

"Is this your idea of being _there for me_?"

On a sudden burst of adrenaline, he flung himself at the entrance of the cave, his voice rising. "Do you hear me, guys? You left me here! How could you! How could you leave me here? I did everything I could for you! Everything!"

"And this is what I get in return?"

"How could you take them from me?"

"When have I ever failed to serve you, God?" he bellowed to the heavens, his anger permeating the whole of the cave. "When did I ever go against you? Why did you have to take them from me?"

"Why?"

* * *

Silence hung heavily in the cave, a silence only periodically shattered by the sound of his gentle breathing. His eyes roamed the walls blindly, his mind not caring what those emerald orbs absorbed. He was lost in memory, of the times spent at the school, the best, and in fact, the only good times of his life. He recalled each word his friends had spoken, each lesson Professor Remus Lupin had taught, each stunt Sirius Black had pulled, each time Professor McGonagall had given him that secretive smile, or that disappointed frown. 

He remembered it all. Every word, every smile, every laugh, every frown.

Every scream.

Dead. All dead. Before his young and tortured eyes.

So many dead. So many. All in his name. In his place. To hurt him. To protect him.

Darkness was his only comfort.

Silence was his only cure.

Yet there had never been either.

* * *

A shudder ran through the youth's body. He'd heard something, out there in the darkness. "What was that?" he wondered aloud, his eyes darting about nervously. It sounded like a wounded animal. 

He huddled closer to his puny fire.

His hands began to move against each other instinctively. God, it was cold.

He'd just dismissed the noise as an animal when it erupted again. A chill raced down his spine, and he straightened abruptly. 'If that was an animal,' he thought to himself, his humor still strangely intact, 'I'll eat my left boot.'

He stood from the fire, his face and much of his torso removed from its miniature warm glow just by the act of standing upright.

"Hello?" he attempted to yell, but his voice came out as little more than a terrified rasp. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Is anyone there?"

Nothing.

"Hello!"

That mewling scream again, and this time it didn't stop for some time.

His feet sent him in the general direction of the sound, and he soon found himself running. He raced across the landscape blindly, following the sound of that tortured scream, until he met the base of a monolithic incline.

Hollow Crest. The tallest incline in the area. Not quite a mountain, but then again, not far from it.

"Hello?" he yelled up it, and when the scream continued, he began scrambling up the rocky slope.

The scream stopped, and for a long time, there was silence.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

It took him several minutes to ascend the mountainous rock, and by the time he could again hear the indication of human or any other inhabitation, he was a mere thirty feet below the source of the disruption. A form appeared in one of the entrances of the numerous caves, and he froze.

"Do you hear me, guys?" the figure screamed at the sky. "You left me here! How could you! How could you leave me here? I did everything I could for you! Everything!"

"And this is what I get in return?"

"How could you take them from me?"

"When have I ever failed to serve you, God? When did I ever go against you? Why did you have to take them from me?"

"Why?"

The youth cowered beneath a protrusion in the slope, and listened with bated breath. Soon thereafter the form retreated back into the cave, sobbing.

He waited several moments to be sure that the figure wouldn't return, then moved from beneath his hiding space, again climbing up the slope. He stepped onto a flat area just beside the cave and listened to the stranger's sobs, knowing he shouldn't, that he was intruding on a personal moment, but he also knew that this was the source of the mewling screams, and he knew that this person may need help.

He stayed utterly silent, allowing the stranger to exhaust his sobs, then a little longer, listening to the deafening silence. He heard the stranger's softly ragged breathing, heard the stranger muttering names every so often, but otherwise nothing else became of the tantrum.

He moved closer to the cave entrance, close enough to peer in, to see the figure slumped against the wall, his hands propped on his knees. The youth grimaced at the sight of the stranger's bloodied hands and the pain obvious in his emerald eyes.

It had taken as long for the youth to recognize the figure, and when he did, it was the little white scar that alerted him to the figure's identity.

"Harry Potter," he breathed in shock, stumbling back a step, before he remembered he was on a precarious cliff.

The figure's head came up quickly and his piercing eyes landed on the intruder. He stood quickly, startled, as the figure outside the cave scrambled backward.

Harry followed quickly, concerned that the figure would find himself slipping, as fast as he was attempting to retreat. Harry grasped the young man's arm just as the youth lost his balance. Harry lurched forward as the full weight of the boy pulled against him, but he was still strong, strong enough to tug the boy back onto the cliff and into the safety of the cave.

Instantly the newcomer jerked away from Harry's grasp. "I'm sorry to intrude," he stammered, reeling back until he connected with the wall, then sliding sideways toward the exit. "I heard someone screaming… I just thought… but you… I'll leave now. I'm sorry I ever..."

He reached the exit, only to find the rather intimidating form of Harry blocking it.

"Who are you?" Harry rasped, his voice like sandpaper across the youth's skin.

He moved backward, away from Harry, deeper into the cave, and much to his dismay, a beam of moonlight struck his blonde head and drawn face. He froze as the silhouette of Harry Potter tensed, and as Harry reached for his pocket, the figure flung himself from the path of the light.

"Malfoy!" Harry screeched, raising the gun from his deep pockets. He shot blindly into the dark, screaming in rage. The bullets rained down in the darkness of the cave, and he didn't stop until he heard a shout as a bullet connected with flesh. He centered the gun on that location and stalked forward in the darkness.

"Draco Malfoy! How dare you! How dare you come here! You… you who served me up to them! How dare you! I trusted you, we all trusted you! We thought we'd gained another spy… how could you betray Snape that way, how could you? He was like a father to you!" Harry's voice was thick with emotion and fury, shaking and sore.

"No!" the figure squealed, gasping. "Please, Harry! Stop!"

Harry tugged at the boy's robes in the dark, scarcely able to see at all, in the darkness, until he found the boy's wand. "Lumos," he rasped, and shoved the light in the cowering boy's face. "I want to look you in the eyes when I kill you," he snarled, and centered the gun on the boy's forehead.

His finger slipped into the trigger guard and began to pull back on the trigger.

"You slimy son of a bitch," he murmured spitefully, and his finger depressed the trigger.


	3. Which Create An Alliance

Click.

The hammer slammed into the empty chamber, and the unconquered silence thirsted for more than the hollow sound that erupted from the firearm. The cowering youth flinched at the sound, his arms flying up to block his face.

It wasn't until the sound echoed thrice more throughout the cave before the blonde realized that something in the firearm was malfunctioning.

"Damn it!" Harry snarled, throwing the useless metal object aside. He remembered the wand, then, and his eyes lit up. "This will do just fine."

"No, Harry, stop, please!" the blonde youth begged. "Please, Mr. Potter, I'm not him, I'm not…"

"You cannot deny you're Malfoy!" Harry raged, raising the wand.

"No, no, no, I'm not denying that I'm a Malfoy," the youth objected. "But I'm not Draco! Draco is my father! My name is Raiden. Raiden Malfoy. Please, Mr. Potter, I'm not him!"

Harry faltered slightly.

"You must believe me. I know I look like him but I'm not! Look harder, please!"

Harry laughed bitterly. "Oh, you have got to be bloody kidding me!"

"No," the other objected, his body uncurling ever so slightly, his fear slowly subsiding. "My name is Raiden Draconus Malfoy, son of Draco Malfoy. I've run away from my home, my father. I've run away because I can't stand him. Please," he implored desperately.

Harry narrowed his emerald eyes, bringing the still-burning light of the wand closer to the boy's face. Though he had to admit that the blonde hair was a little darker, and fluffy, instead of slicked back pompously, the fact that the face pleading with him looked all too like the face of the young boy he remembered was impossible to deny.

In fact, he realized belatedly, they were identical.

Harry lowered the wand from an attack position, letting it rest beside his leg, whilst the burning light detached itself from the tip of the wand and floated up to illuminate both men.

The face of a sixteen year old boy peered up at him from the cavern floor.

Draco, like Harry himself, would be thirty-seven years old.

"Raiden, is it?" Harry asked begrudgingly. He bit his bottom lip into his mouth and frowned. "Alright. You have two minutes to convince me not to kill you."

Raiden let out a relieved sigh, shifting until he could sit straight.

He began to tug at his robes, and Harry tensed. "What are you doing?"

He froze. "I… you… ah… one of the bullets…"

Harry frowned as he remembered how he'd found where the boy had hidden.

He'd shot him.

"Oh, yeah."

He approached the youth once more, and though Raiden shied away from him in fear, Harry ignored the action and crouched down. "I'm going to heal you," he informed Raiden, and the blonde youth fell still.

He slid the tip of the wand down the area of the robe above Raiden's thigh which was already thoroughly soaked with Raiden's blood, and the threads split, in the exact place where he'd intended them. He flicked the fabric away from the wound with a wave of his wand, and studied the wound with a critical eye.

Raiden's brows drew together in confusion. "How…"

Harry waved the question away. "I'm just going to use a few basic spells to stitch you up until someone can heal you properly. It's really nothing more than a scratch, I've got terrible aim in the dark, lucky for you. My night vision's been shot to bloody hell."

Raiden let it go.

He didn't tell Harry that he wasn't going to ask what he was doing, that he had been going to ask how Harry was doing magic so effortlessly. Rumor had it that after Harry's imprisonment by Death Eaters, he'd completely lost control of his magical abilities. He hadn't been able to transfigure a beetle into a button without something exploding.

Or so rumor had it.

Quickly and efficiently Harry flicked the foreign wand, casting several relatively complicated spells with ease. Raiden watched, staggered by the ease with which the stranger used his wand.

'That just isn't natural,' he mused.

Suddenly Harry was moving away, and the pain was gone. His eyes flew to the wound.

Or, rather, the area where the wound used to be.

"You did it," Raiden breathed.

"Yea, I mean, I figured, that way, you wouldn't have to worry about the pain."

Raiden's blonde head nodded of its own accord.

"And who knows how far away from civilization we are," Harry continued. He met Raiden's eyes squarely. "What did your father do to you?"

The young boy flinched at Harry's blunt manner. "Well, it was really nothing in particular, I just… I don't like him."

"You're not the only one."

"Obviously," Raiden mused, motioning to the torn and bloody robe, then seeming to remember something. "He did all that? He did what you said? He betrayed you?"

Harry laughed humorlessly. "Yes, he did all of that. Not only did he serve all of the Order up to the Death Eaters' hands, but he helped while they tortured them."

Raiden's eyes shot down. "I didn't think he was that bad," he murmured, and Harry, taking the statement entirely wrong, snarled.

"Don't you try to tell me he wouldn't do that, Raiden Malfoy, I watched him while he laughed. I watched while he tore his surrogate father's tongue out, and I watched while he spilled all of the names of our allies. I…"

Raiden interrupted somewhat desperately. "No, you misunderstood, I didn't mean to say I thought he didn't do it, I just meant I'd… hoped that there was still some good in my father, that somewhere deep inside of him, he could… still love me. You understand that, don't you?"

Harry sank against the wall with a guilty sigh. "Yeah, I understand that. I'm… I'm sorry. It must be tough. To live like that. And, well, I'm sorry I blew up at you."

"It's alright." Raiden's voice held the resigned note of a oft defeated man.

"And I'm sorry I shot you."

"It's alright."

"And I'm sorry I nearly threw you off the cliff."

"It's alr…" Raiden halted and his eyes slanted at Harry curiously, until he saw the pale glint of humor in Harry's dark eyes. "You didn't nearly throw me off the cliff," he responded, cocking an inquisitive brow.

"Oh, was that only in my head, then?"

Raiden snorted. "You just made a joke."

"First time for everything. Including me throwing you off a cliff."

"Oh, another one!" Raiden teased.

"That cliff is still right outside my front door," Harry retorted coolly.

Raiden smiled fully for the first time. "I think my two minutes have been up for quite some time."

"Aye, they have."

"That means you're not going to kill me?"

"I never said I only had two minutes to kill you."

Raiden chuckled. "No, I don't suppose you did."

"I'm probably not going to kill you," Harry confided, after a moment's pause.

"Then I'm probably not going to run screaming down a mountainside."

"That's probably for the best."

"Yeah, I suppose it probably is."

Harry's lips twitched and they both snorted with laughter at their uncanny ability to get along in the most unusual of circumstances. 


	4. Where The Sins Of The Father

"How old are you, anyway?" Harry asked congenially.

"Sixteen."

"You're very brave for a kid."

"Almost seventeen," Raiden said, somewhat defensively.

"Ahh, hit a sore spot, eh? I'll bet you don't like to be called a kid any more than I did when I was your age."

Raiden shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I…"

"Oh, gross. Call me that again and I will throw you off the cliff. My name is Harry. I don't much care for formalities any longer."

Raiden awarded him a grin. "Thanks."

"So what brings you to this area, Raiden?"

"I… I'm not entirely sure. I was on my way to Hogsmeade to try to petition someone to help me hide from my father but… somehow got a little turned around…"

Harry barked a laugh, that laugh which sounded rusty and unaccustomed to being sounded, and nodded. "If you were coming from Malfoy Manor, then you're certainly a 'little turned around.' As in, you looped right on past your home to get here. Lucky for you, I suppose, your father didn't have patrols out for you yet."

Raiden's eyes told of his sorrow before he was able to turn his eyes away. "Yes, my father most likely had better things to do than send his men looking for me. Most likely right now he's hoping I'll wind up dead somewhere."

"Tell me about him?" Harry requested gently, his eyes warm.

Raiden studied the ground as he replied. "He… when I was younger he was… an incredible father. He never made me feel like he wanted to be anywhere else besides home with me. My mother… I never knew my mother. Father never spoke of her. When I did ask, he would get very sad. I sensed that he loved her very much. But then, when I was about seven, everything changed. He got very distant and…"

"Angry?" Harry supplied, basing his query on his own experience to aid Raiden when he saw the younger man struggling to find the right word.

"Well, no, not exactly. He was… a lot of the times he seemed very sad, and almost as if he had something to tell me but something was stopping him. But other times, he just… sat there. I would try to ask him what was wrong but… but he just…"

"Just sat there."

Raiden chewed his lip. "That sounds kind of crazy doesn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "No offense, Raiden, but… your dad was never exactly my best friend, nor did he ever come across as particularly sane."

Raiden huffed his understanding. "I can see how you'd think that. Or, I'm certainly beginning to."

Harry watched his young visitor curiously. "You love him, though."

Raiden's eyes were miserable. "I do. He's my father, I don't know how to hate him. I just… I just wish he could be who he used to be. I wish he could be who he was, before. Before… before the other Malfoy" he spit the words as though they were the foulest of curses "did... what he did."

"You mean... your grandfather?" As he spoke the words Raiden heard the chill of hatred seep into his voice, hatred which met his own.

"That... that thing," Raiden hissed, his voice suddenly as cold and hateful as any adult's, "which called itself my father's father, yes. But I refuse to call him my grandfather."

Harry, apparently satisfied with that response, said nothing else. He nodded slightly, but, sensing the precarious edge Raiden's emotions had leapt to, decided to steer the conversation away from Lucius Malfoy.

"So, um. What... what made you decide to run away?" he blurted, then winced at his stupidity. His attempt to change the subject could likely press Raiden harder toward his hatred.

Yet Raiden seemed content with that subject, and shrugged his fury away as he replied. "I guess I wanted attention. I was hoping it'd snap him out of it, out of his... moods. I was hoping, I guess, that he'd realize... realize that he still loved me."

Harry once more nodded his understanding, letting Raiden think in the unbroken silence.

"But I guess it didn't work. He hasn't sent anyone looking for me."

As much as Harry hated to encourage any of his enemy's good qualities, if there were even any to encourage, he couldn't stand to see his young friend so downtrodden. "You can't know that for sure," he put in carefully. "Maybe he did send out some searchers and you were just lucky enough to slip by them undetected."

Raiden sighed. "That's not likely. I was practically looking for them, I mean, I suppose in a way I wanted to get caught, I wanted to know that he was... worried." Raiden's voice broke on the last word, and Harry ached for him. "I thought maybe if I... if he thought he was going to lose me he would be afraid, and he would worry, and he would... and he would be frantic trying to find me, find his son, his only son." Harry could hear the tears thickening Raiden's words, and shifted closer to the boy to place a comforting arm about his shoulders.

"I know it sounds silly and childish, but..."

"No," Harry interrupted gently. "It's not silly, and definitely not childish. I can understand completely," he murmured. "Everyone at one point needs to know they're loved, appreciated."

He jolted when Raiden flung himself into his grasp, clinging to him about the middle. Raiden shuddered in his grasp, and Harry carefully placed his other arm behind the youth's shaking back, tightening his hold on the boy when he felt the tears on his shoulder. He didn't bother to speak any reassurances, knowing the futility of the attempt. No words could put to rest nine years of neglect. Nothing could, save the acceptance of his father.

Raiden allowed Harry to hold him while he wept, grateful for the understanding and comfort he found in the stranger's arms, the comfort that he had so desperately sought from his own father, but was coldly denied.

After his tears were spent, Raiden gathered himself slowly, and sensed no impatience on Harry's part to hurry the end of their embrace. That fact warmed him even as it made him even more bitter, warmed by the fact that a man with no ties to him could be so comfortable against his grasp, and yet chilled by the sharp contrast it threw his father into.

Harry allowed the youth to take his time, not minding the moisture on his shoulder or the tightness of Raiden's grasp. He let Raiden pull away, and though Raiden turned from Harry to wipe his tears away, he could sense that Raiden was grateful.

"I... Sorry about that," Raiden snuffed, and Harry shook his head with the beginnings of a smile.

"Don't apologize, Raiden," he responded, and conjured a bit of tissue for the boy. "There is no shame in feeling."

Raiden gave him a watery smile, and shook his head. "I'll bet you think I'm such a child," he persisted, and saw Harry's gaze flicker to a darkened corner of the cave, sorrow welling in his stunning emerald eyes.

"I don't think that pain is childish," he murmured, and Raiden followed his gaze, but was unable to cut through the veil of shadows across the cave to see what Harry was looking at. 


	5. Breed Confessions Of The Son

The silence was thick, yet Harry had no desire to break it. It had been so long since he had had the opportunity to sit in companionable silence with another, so long since he had had the opportunity to speak, listen, laugh with another. For the numerous years he had been wandering since the downfall of the Dark Lord who stole his friends, his whole world, he had been feared and scorned by his fellows, despite their respect for his sacrifices. They called him mad and shied away from his infamous fury, shuddering when directly addressed by him, no matter the circumstances. Nobody had tried to understand, nobody had bothered to listen to his pleas, nobody had bothered to consider just what would drive their most beloved hero to such darkness. They listened to the words of the papers, and they considered their fear of him just. They heard the voice of his enemies and considered him lost. He was nothing more than a wraith to them, a phantasm who could no longer lead, a leader who now followed nothing, not even the voice of reason.

Yet here, his enemy's son, was laughing with him, and smiling at him, and trusting him. Within the space of an hour he had forged a bond of the most thrilling proportions, a bond which he was sure would carry him back into the grace of his men, back into the arms of stability. For the first time in five years he had hope that he would be able to overcome the dragging weight of his sorrow, his regret, and for the first time in his life, he felt free.

Draco's son looked at him with silver eyes which conveyed his respect and trust, and Harry's heart swelled with the possibilities. If he could learn from this boy, this boy who was raised by darkness but guided back to the light, this boy who knew how to forgive and who knew so well how to love, then maybe, just maybe, he could learn how to be himself again.

Raiden's eyes, so like his father's, skittered away from his own, but not for the reason that most did. Raiden was still insecure, a youth who knew not how to contain the joy he found in the idle banter they engaged in. He knew only that he dare not show his elation, for fear of his fellow's rejection. After leading a life full of love for seven years only to be shut out for the next nine, almost ten, he was dreadfully afraid of letting himself get tricked into trusting too easily. He knew of his father's associates' tendency for being plenty friendly with him until he showed the slightest bit of attachment, at which point they fled the other way. The men he knew were far too gruff and tough to allow a scrappy little kid to shadow their steps, especially one who had the air of a kicked puppy about him.

Harry tried not to laugh out loud when Raiden's stomach gave a loud interjection into the silence, but the effect on Raiden was nonetheless intense. He blushed and rubbed his belly, grimacing at Harry's amused grin. "I haven't eaten for… since I left. What's for dinner, then, eh?" he questioned, eager to change the subject from himself.

Harry let out a snort. "Well then, go ahead and invite yourself over for dinner," he teased, taking on a gruff disposition that was entirely false. Yet he didn't realize the extent of Raiden's insecurity, and was horrified at the effect his heartless words had on the youth.

All of the color that had previously tinted Raiden's cheeks fell away abruptly, and he opened his mouth three times before he was able to speak. Even then his words were broken, and he was instantly on his feet and stumbling away from the man he had thought to be his friend. "I… Sorry, that was… rude. I. Didn't mean to be. Overstay my welcome. So I'll just…"

In that instant Harry realized that his newfound bond with the boy was in danger of shattering, but he wasn't sure why Raiden had reacted so violently to his jibe. Hadn't they been teasing each other in a similar manner since they'd begun their acquaintance? Frantically Harry searched his memory for any reason for Raiden's reaction but found none. What had they been speaking of before the silence?

"No!" Harry bellowed, unable to do more. He clamored to his feet to follow the youth, his hands aching to clutch the boy's shoulder in reassurance, but something held him back. He clenched his hands into fists and fought his nature, which urged him to be silent and accept this rejection just as he had the others. He bit his tongue and after several attempts was able to speak. "Please, Raiden, I didn't mean that. I was only joking. I… don't leave."

The note of pleading in his voice was enough to give Raiden further pause. He stilled his feet despite their efforts to carry him away from danger, and turned his head to face his fellow.

"I didn't realize… I was only joking, of course you're welcome to stay here. I… please, stay, I'll… I'll get some food for you. S… somehow."

That sent Raiden's eyebrows climbing, and for an instant he forgot his fear. But then his memory seized him again, and he shuddered.

"Raiden?" Harry questioned softly, seeing stark fear displayed in those silver eyes. "Raiden, I won't hurt you. I swear it."

He wasn't entirely sure what prompted him to say such a thing, but it seemed to be the right thing. Raiden's eyes refocused, and Harry could see the struggle to shake off whatever memory had clutched at him blatant there.

And suddenly it all made sense, and Harry shuddered with the realization. "Who?" he asked, and dreaded the answer. "Not your father, surely?"

"No!" Raiden rushed to defend his father. "No, he would never… he was out of town. I don't know where. He never even knew about it. One of his… associates… was throwing a bit of a celebration in his own honor at the Manor, and I happened to get in the way. He…" briefly Raiden wondered why on earth he was telling the elder such private matters, as he had never told anyone before, not even his best friend from Hogwarts, but the frank stare he was receiving sent those thoughts fluttering away. He turned to face Harry, his shoulders slumped and his voice weary beneath the memory. "He told me I'd overstayed my welcome and that I should go to bed, I was too little to be at such a big event, but I was curious and I had always considered him to be one of the kinder of Father's associates, so I stuck around. He caught me again sometime later, and dragged me off to a secluded area, where he used his a whip he conjured from his wand to punish me. He told me…" Raiden shuddered, and Harry clasped his shoulder to lend him support. "He told me that either I run along to my bed, or I would be sharing his with him."

Raiden couldn't bear to look into Harry's eyes, sure he would see disgust and horror, but when Harry's fingers tightened on his shoulder he couldn't resist. And to his surprise, instead of disgust, fury danced within Harry's eyes.

"His name," Harry requested with all the calmness of a man ordering his dry cleaning, and suddenly Raiden felt a thrill of fear for the sake of his past tormentor.

"I… no, it's not important. He was just a dumb bloke my father employed. I was a silly kid, I should have known better. I mean, I was almost twelve, and…"

"You said your father was out of town?"

Raiden nodded, curious at the new look of concentration stealing across his friend's face.

"How long?"

"Ah… several weeks. He never told me where he was, like I said, but…"

Harry's hand fell away and he sighed, and the focus was replaced by remorse. "I know where your father was," he growled, and turned his face away.

Raiden was afraid to ask but had to know. "Wh… where was that?"

Harry's eyes darted back to glare at the corner he had earlier examined. "He was destroying me."

Raiden, ever astute, put the pieces together rapidly. "That's when he… when he did… what you said he did."

"That's when he did what I said he did," Harry confirmed, and the look in his eyes was far past that of a thirty-seven-year-old man.

He wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but suddenly the need to know the specifics overwhelmed him, and he voiced the question he'd been wanting to ask since he'd heard of his father's crimes. "What… what happened, exactly?" he asked. Harry met his eyes and knew that for the first time in his life he was going to tell the entire story. He was going to spill his soul to his enemy's son, and he was sure to heal himself in the process. 


	6. And The Forgiveness Of All

_**As an aside: Just wanted to take this chance to thank you guys! Your reviews keep me going, and knowing that yall are working to get me more reviews is just... WHEW! Awesome! Love you guys! This is, of course, for yall!

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"I'm sure you were raised on the story of Voldemort and his reign of death," Harry began slowly, and saw the confirmation of such an upbringing in Raiden's eyes. He didn't have to ask, knowing without a doubt that Draco would raise his young son to follow the ways of the Dark Lord, just as he was taught.

But Raiden's next words surprised him. "Aye, my father always warned me against dabbling in the Dark Arts, saying that if I wasn't terribly careful I would turn out like that crackpot old fool, thinking I was indestructible and getting myself killed." He gave a faint smile. "He always warned me if I ever tried anything so stupid he'd pull a Harry Potter and blow me to smithereens, or someone else would fill your shoes for him."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "He taught you… NOT to follow the Dark Lord's example?"

Raiden nodded and then shrugged. "Well, when I was little, anyway. Afterward he didn't teach me much of anything. Hardly ever saw me."

"After he… after he started following his father?"

Raiden confirmed that with a hiss. "Yes, after that, he was not only a hypocrite, but he was an asshole of a father."

"Do you know why he suddenly abandoned those beliefs he'd taught you?"

Raiden met his suspicious eyes with a shrug. "Hell if I know."

Harry was not satisfied but knew that he could get no more from the boy, and continued his story instead of prying further. "Well um, yeah, for the first seven years of my schooling, I had to keep battling Voldemort, and in my seventh year, I killed him. And we thought that all of the Death Eaters were either dead or captured, but for some reason that I have yet to figure out, Lucius Malfoy escaped judgment, and managed to keep his reputation and life. For the next several years, he kept a low profile and nobody even knew that the whole time, he was gathering his army. We were all so glad that The Great Harry Potter" Raiden winced at the bitterness in his voice when he spoke of his reputation "had killed Voldemort, and we didn't even bother to suspect the coming of The Second Dark Lord. And by the time we realized, it was too late. Lucius had wrought untold destruction and had produced an effect vast enough to terrorize the world we lived in It fell apart, and everyone blamed me, because I was apparently supposed to have the special "Dark Lord Killing Bug Spray," or something, and I forgot to use it on the slimy bastard.

"Finally after another year or so, we were able to muster up a resistance. The old Order reformed and we treated Lucius the same as we'd treated his mentor, and were able to beat the shit out of his army. Many of them disbanded the second we resisted, saying they were under the spell and that they wanted to join us. Your father was one of those.

"He pledged his allegiance to me, swearing on his life that he would protect our people from the inside, and I trusted him.

"I was a fool to do so. Three weeks after he was admitted into the Order, our headquarters were raided. All but three members were captured, and…" Harry's voice broke and he let it trail away until Raiden had to strain to hear him. "They were tortured before they were killed. Before your father killed them.

"Your father was the Dark Lord's favorite right hand man. He was the one who cast the hagani spell around me, he was the one who… he convinced his father that he should be the one to do the killing curse for each of the Order members, that way, I would know…"

Harry's voice fell away completely, and he was able to do naught but gasp as the pain of his memories threatened to swell over him. He remembered each of his friends' faces, and, as had happened every night for so long, he ached within the grasp of the past's cruel fingers. Slowly but surely the past dragged him down, swirling about his mind until he could hardly remember himself.

And then Raiden's strong grasp was on his shoulder, and reality came upon him with a vengeance, chasing away any tatters of webbing the past had sent out, clearing his mind and soul.

Green met silver in an instant, locked, and held. "He convinced his father he had to do all of the killing curses, that way, I would know that each death was on my hands for vouching for him to be accepted into the Order."

Raiden's eyes flickered, but didn't fall away. "That's not true," he asserted gently, and squeezed the shoulder beneath his fingertips before releasing it. "You are not to blame for wanting to believe in the good of humans."

"I was a fool for trusting him!" Harry insisted, but Raiden shrugged it away in favor of eyeing the sky outside.

"You made a mistake. Only he is to blame for the deaths he orchestrated. Only he can accept the brand of 'murderer' for their fates."

Harry had never before heard someone be so sure about his utter lack of guilt in the matter. Everyone he had met had insisted that only he was to blame, if only he hadn't trusted, if only he had seen the attacks coming, if only he had prevented Lucius from gaining a foothold when Voldemort fell.

Never mind that the ministry was responsible for the capture and punishment of the Death Eaters.

Never mind that the ministry had prevented him from personally pursuing the Death Eaters, claiming that at that time he was too young to be responsible for the capture of the other adults.

It was all his fault.

And in that moment he didn't know what to say. Gratitude welled within his breast and he choked on it as it threatened to overwhelm him. "Thank you," he rasped, and Raiden glanced up in surprise but Harry was already moving away, toward the entrance.

"Where are you going?" he gasped, scurrying to follow.

Harry sent him a slight smile. "To go get dinner," he responded. "Wait here."

Raiden shook his head. "Like hell. There are some things I'd like to pick up in town while we're there, and…"

Harry laughed. "I'm not going to town," he corrected, and motioned to the outdoors. "I eat from the land."

"You… you're not going to town? You… you don't go into town?"

"I don't go into town. What money do I have? Nobody will employ me, and I refuse to become a beggar. So I eat what I catch and pick. Now, calm down," he warned when Raiden's eyes were nearly bulging. "There's plenty to eat if you know how to find it. And it's healthy. There are no diseases around here, no…"

"You NEVER go into town?" Raiden exclaimed hoarsely.

Harry slapped Raiden on the back and shook his head. "No, kid, I never go into town. Everywhere I turn people are either pitying me or blaming me, so I don't bother."

"When was the last time you've been into civilization? How long have you been in this cave?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably beneath the younger man's stare, feeling as though he were once again under his one of his Hogwarts teachers' knowing stares.

"Well, those two answers have two different questions. I haven't been around people in… four years?" he began slowly, and didn't acknowledge Raiden's startled gasp. "And I've been in the cave only a few months of that."

"Only a few months?" Raiden echoed, his voice thick with disbelief. "Only! You've been in this cave for months and you've never been into town? That's…"

Harry dropped his gaze to hide the offence in his eyes. "Every time I go into town they shy from me as if I'll kill them too. They all blame me for the deaths."

"That's nonsense!" Raiden snapped, and stomped out onto the ledge. "We're going into town and… and…" Suddenly he froze. "Your hands!" he gasped, spinning around to face the other. "Your…"

Harry cocked a brow and raised his hands to examine them.

"What… when… I didn't even notice…"

"I don't either. I never do. They just… heal on their own. Every time. Almost immediately after I wake up. I don't know or care why."

* * *

"Uncle! Uncle!" The tiny voice invaded his contemplations, and he turned with a smile.

"Come here, you!" he grinned, patting his lap. The young girl flew onto his lap with a squeal of delight, knowing that her Uncle Dumby never disappointed her by telling her he was too busy for her.

"Hello Professor," a pair of voices behind them greeted, and Dumbledore tossed a greeting over his shoulder without looking away from the bundle of energy in his lap.

"How've you been, Professor? Have you had any luck?" The worry in the younger man's voice was palpable, and it broke the elder's heart to hear it.

"No, we haven't. By the way, seeing as your daughter calls me 'uncle,' I think it's safe for you to call me Albus. I promise I won't think you're being disrespectful, Professor W…"

"Sir!" a voice exploded through the room, and Albus snapped his mouth shut. "We have a report from Shard that there's a banshee inhabiting one of their cliffs. Shall I send men out to investigate?"

Albus gave a dry chuckle. "Banshees are not content to hang around in caves, Mr. Creevy. Inform the villagers that they'll probably just need to wait it out and whatever sounds they're hearing will dissipate."

"They say it's been there for nine months," Colin insisted softly, ashamed at having been so offhandedly dismissed. But Dumbledore's attention was once again on the little redhead in his lap, and he paid no more attention to Colin.

"Well, Shelly," Albus cooed. "I hear that someone I know has a birthday coming up…"

Shelly squirmed in his lap and nodded vigorously.

"I wonder… is it… daddy?" He tossed the waiting man a mischievous grin, which was echoed by the other.

Shelly shook her head side to side, her grin ever widening.

"Is it… mommy?"

The slender brunette who had come in on the redheaded man's arm widened her eyes dramatically and pointed to herself with a questioning gasp.

Shelly giggled with sheer elation as she shook her head once more.

"No? Well that means it must be…"

Shelly waited with wide eyes.

"Me?" Albus questioned doubtfully.

Shelly erupted into giggles and gripped his robes. "No, silly Uncy Dumby, it's ME!"

Albus feigned surprise and laughed with her. "Yes, of course, silly me!" he agreed, and grinned at the girl's smiling parents. "And tell me, how old will you be turning, little Miss Shelly? Ten?"

"No!" she giggled, and rolled her eyes. "Five!"

Albus laughed with her and motioned the pair closer. "Come on, everyone, this means we have to have a BIG celebration! It's not every day a four-year-old turns five!"

* * *

Harry walked alongside Raiden, wondering the entire time what on earth had possessed him to agree to such madness. For four years he had avoided all human contact with humans, and suddenly in one day he both allowed someone to breach his defenses and reentered into society.

The town they entered was small, with probably no more than a hundred residents, but still the weight of their glares was smothering. He tried to keep himself calm, yet every time he tried to meet their gazes, his heart wanted to stop.

"Raiden, maybe I should just…"

"Harry, no offense, but if you suggest one more time that you go back to the cave and wait, I'll pummel you. Just calm down and give them a chance. Maybe by now their old fears and doubts will have been dispelled."

"I can feel them looking at me, hating me."

"You only feel that because you expect to," Raiden tried once more, yet Harry shuddered.

"Come on, come help me get some meats. We'll need meat."

Harry allowed the youngster to drag him along with very little objection, forcing himself to endure this torment for the sake of his friend. Raiden would be crushed if he didn't at least try to show a bit of trust in Raiden's belief that he could help Harry reinstate himself as a functioning individual in their society.

"Hello, sir," Raiden grinned at the shopkeeper they spotted, and ignored the fact that he shied from their gazes in fear.

"I'm sorry, mate, I was just about to close," the shopkeeper spouted immediately.

Harry tugged on Raiden's sleeve, knowing that the man was lying, knowing that the man was only trying to run him off.

"Yes, well, it's lucky that we got here just before you did, then, isn't it? I'll take…"

"You be the Dark Lord's grand…" the shopkeeper began, and suddenly Raiden realized why they were avoiding the pair. They weren't afraid of Harry, they were afraid of him, Raiden.

"If you even try to shove that old loony bastard off as my relation I'll scream. Yes, he was my grandfather, yes, he was an evil crazy bastard, and yes, I hated his guts since the day I met him. Now if we could hurry this along, so you can close, as you said you were just about to do?"

The shopkeeper couldn't help the goofy grin that spread itself across his face. "I heard that the Dark Lord's grandson was a zesty sort of fellow. Didn't take crap from anyone. Also heard he was a good kid."

Raiden graced him with a dazzling smile. "Thank you, sir."

The shopkeeper turned his eyes to Harry. "And who be your friend, mate?"

Harry was startled to realize that the shopkeeper truly had no clue who he was.

"This is… this is Harry Potter. You may remember him as…"

"Harry Potter!" the man screeched, and everyone turned to stare.

Harry cringed and waited for what he knew would follow. The insults, the blame, the…

"Bloody hell, I'd never thought I'd see the day when I'd see old Harry Potter grace my market. Bloody hell! An honor, sir, an honor it be, indeed. What can I get you fine gentlemen?"

But suddenly the pair was surrounded, everyone wanting to shake Harry's hand.

"Sir, when I 'eard what happened that day, I couldn't believe it. Once old Dumbledore came out with the real story a few years back, I couldn't believe that anyone had ever doubted you. Right ashamed, we were, when we 'eard."

"I'm so sorry for you losses, Mister Potter, sir. So sorry."

Everyone in the crowd had something to say about Harry's past, about how they hoped he would forgive them, about how they hoped he would be able to find it in his heart to come back among them.

Then someone said something that froze the blood in Harry's veins. "You know, the ministry's been looking for you something vicious. Put out fliers all over the place, put out rewards and all sorts of things for you." And the stranger produced one such flier from the wall of one of the shops.

Harry's eyes widened with horror as they read the message. The ministry was looking for one Harry Potter, and if anyone should hear or see anything about him, they should immediately report to the ministry.

"No," he breathed, and silence fell among his gathering.

"What's wrong, Mister Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "The… ministry. Does anyone know… why they're looking for me?" he questioned into the silence.

No answers were forthcoming.

"Please… please, tell me nobody has reported to them."

The gathering witches and wizards shook their heads. "Is there a problem, Mister Potter?"

Harry nodded. "The… ministry wanted to… I won't go in to the ministry. I won't. I… I can't. They blamed me for what happened. They…"

Raiden set his hand on Harry's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Please, fair people, do not report this occurrence to the ministry. They will not leave Harry in peace, and he… he needs peace. I will double the reward money for anyone who needs it, but please, under no circumstances should you report this. If you do, it may mean the end of Harry's freedom."

Cries of agreement flew up among the gathering, and everyone swore that no compensation was necessary, they would gladly keep their silence for Harry's sake.

"But why would the ministry want to imprison you, Mister Potter?"

"No, no," Harry corrected. "You misunderstand. The ministry wouldn't imprison me, not in that way. But they… they would expect me to go back to work, they would… expect me to serve their purposes, but since they blame me for not foreseeing the threat of… the threat of the Second Dark Lord, they will not let me be in peace. I will have to endure their ridicule in return for going back there. They will all still hate me, they will not understand."

"But the real story is out, now, Mister Potter. Everyone is in your corner. The Minister…"

"The Minister has always used me for his own purposes. He has always resented my power. He has always resented that only I had the power to kill Voldemort."

He noticed with pleasure that not one individual shuddered at the mention of Voldemort's name. Their hero had vanquished the big bad, and was among them, and they had no fear of the name.

"Harry surely will return to his old life in time. But he is mourning the loss of his friends, his family. Please, do not report him to the ministry."

"Of course not!" the gathering exclaimed, and Harry's relieved sigh was lost to the chaos of their agreement.

"Now, if you'd all be so kind… I understand that you are all excited about the return of Harry Potter but we haven't had dinner, and…"

"Oh! Please, let me treat you boys to a meal. On the house. The city of Shard will be glad to have you boys in our shops."

Without delay the pair was bustled toward the city tavern, and the volume of the celebratory air was loud enough to drown out Harry's words as he tugged Raiden closer to hiss into his ear.

"You knew that this would happen, didn't you? You knew the truth was out."

"No, Father never let me keep up with the goings on of the war and such. I didn't try to find anything out because I respected his wishes. But… now that I think about it, he must have not wanted me to find out that he was a murdering bastard. But why didn't the ministry punish him?"

Harry stumbled when he realized he hadn't thought of that. If Raiden was living with his father then obviously he had escaped prosecution!

"He probably told the ministry he was under a spell, just like he told me. Your father can be very convincing."

"Well what do we do? We can't just let him get away with that. We'll have to…"

Harry's eyes told his intention as he gave Raiden a grim smile. "When the time comes I will speak with your father and settle the matter."

Raiden felt a trill of terror streak through him, but they were guided into seats and brought food and drink, and he forced his fears away. Later he would try to convince Harry that murder was not the way to solve their problem. But for now, he would enjoy his friend's company and the company of the townsfolk who refused to leave them alone, insisting on telling tales and relaying news.

* * *

Tears welled in sorrowful eyes as they peered into the cave to see the blood smearing the walls. Recognition of the events that must have transpired flickered behind those orbs, and like clockwork a hand appeared to renew the healing spell placed so long ago. Each day the visitor returned to renew the spell which healed the raven haired one's fingers, and each day the visitor lamented its inability to heal the grief at the heart of the matter. So long ago, the visitor remembered, those emerald eyes had looked back with love and devotion. The memory of that raven hair beneath the same pale fingers which renewed the spell each morn welled in the mind of the visitor, and the tears fell. The love that they used to share had since been broken, had turned to hate. Harry Potter hated all of the world, the visitor knew without a doubt. There was no hope that Harry would forgive the crimes he thought the visitor had committed against him. No chance that that love would once again grow.

Draco Malfoy spun from the entrance of the cave and strode away, wishing, as he had every day for the last five years, that Harry would understand.


	7. A Father's Pride

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you :-D I won't bore you with a long message but I want to thank ya'll, if I can't respond to you personally then this is the best I can do, so I want to make sure you know you're appreciated. Right now, I _live_ for reviews, and you guys deliver with gusto. Thank you a billion times over. Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot I _wasn't_ going to leave a long message. Well, anyway, on with the story:-)**

Raiden leaned heavily against Harry as they clamored back to their cave, laughing too hard to stand. Harry snorted his own amusement as the youngster stumbled for the five hundredth time, and wondered briefly if someone had slipped the youth something stronger than butterbeer.

"Can you believe those people? They're so nice!" he exclaimed, gathering himself. He dissolved into a fit of giggles once again. "Corny chicken!" he roared, and Harry burst out laughing with him. The stories the villagers had told were swirling through his brain, making him forget, for the first time in so long, how to be sad.

The acceptance he had found in the hearts of the villagers was enough to make him want to scream for joy, and that feeling was so foreign to him that he didn't know how to handle it. So he laughed with Raiden, and all the while felt like weeping, simply because his fellow man had accepted him.

"You know, Raiden, I have to tell you something. I have to be frank with you."

"Okay, I'll be Bill."

Harry snorted. "Okay, Bill. I think that you're probably the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said, and regretted that the humor faded from Raiden's countenance so abruptly.

Raiden nodded and draped an arm across Harry's shoulder. "I think I am," he agreed, and they both laughed again, and the humor was returned but still there lingered the gratitude. "I think, Harry Potter, that you're the single coolest guy I've ever met."

Harry laughed. "Yes, the hanging out in a cave thing really gets the ladies flocking."

"Well, maybe 'cool' is the wrong word for you. But you're certainly unique. None of my dad's old friends ever had much time for me. I was just a kid, unimportant."

Under the frivolity in Raiden's tone, Harry sensed a deep-seated bitterness, but dared not comment on it. Some things truly were better left unsaid.

Suddenly Raiden froze, clutching Harry's shoulder with renewed purpose. "Oh, Harry, look!" he exclaimed, and Harry spun to face him. Raiden released him as he turned, pointing straight upward. "Look at them all! I've never… I've never seen the sky so brilliant!"

Harry followed Raiden's amazed gaze and smiled. The stars, so far removed from the bright lights of civilization, were out with a vengeance, and Raiden, a born city-dweller, had never seen such a display. "They're so beautiful," he breathed, and Harry couldn't help but be moved.

He tossed Raiden a smile that was never seen. "Aren't they just?"

Raiden's legs folded gracefully beneath him as he lowered himself to the cliff face, his eyes never leaving the sky. "I could just sit here all night," he murmured, and flopped onto his back, obviously intending to do just that.

Harry split his attention between the sky and the boy, sitting beside Raiden on the rocky ground and moving his eyes from the sky to the boy and back.

They sat in comfortable silence, Raiden too involved in his own amazement and Harry too amused and moved to want to break it.

"Do you know the names of any of them?" Raiden asked suddenly, and Harry smiled.

"I used to be able to name quite a few. I took the class at Hogwarts, but… that was a long time ago."

At the disappointed look in Raiden's eyes, Harry regretted not having paid more attention in his classes, and wracked his brain for ways to entertain the boy. "Well," he began, when he lit upon the names of a few constellations he saw in the sky. "That one there is…"

* * *

Never had he seen a more beautiful picture. His eyes misted as he watched his son interact with Harry, and hope sprang to life within his breast. His son had fled his home nigh two weeks ago, yet Draco knew without a doubt that Raiden had only arrived in this area last night, meaning that in under a day his young son had managed to pierce the iron shields of the Cave Dweller.

He had heard the stories around town. The townspeople needed very little provocation to get their mouths moving, and Draco had taken advantage of that to find out about the one he sought. They said that there lived some manner of banshee within the cliffs, and swore that many a night if you listened closely you could hear the wails of it as it devoured the souls of its victims. Draco knew that the townsmen spoke of Harry, and had witnessed firsthand the result of Harry's nightly nightmares. He supposed that the fool who thought up a banshee infestation was not too terribly far off. Certainly Harry's pained cries had rent the joy from his heart, assuming there had every been any to begin with.

Yet with the sight of his beautiful son and the raven haired man, that joy was restored. His young son had long since strived to find a friend he could depend on, an adult he could connect with, whom he could look up to.

Draco regretted never being able to supply the proper mentor for his son. He was certainly lacking in that department, himself, and each of the men who frequented his home were certainly not of the same mould as his more tender-natured son.

None of the men of his acquaintance were the type to marvel at the stars.

Yet Harry was. Harry of the heart large enough to fit the world, until that bitter world turned on him. In a short year the world had lost its hero, its protector, and the man who loved it most. Harry had been willing to give his life for his people, and just when he realized he had been pushed to the limit, forced to give more than he could handle with his sanity intact, the world turned on him, and left him to deal with his own wounds alone. In his hour of need they had shied from him, claiming he was a madman, a man broken from reality. And only when the general populace believed it to be true and scorned their once hero did it come true.

For four years Harry Potter had shied from the presence of humans, muggles and wizards alike. He had drawn himself physically away from the world that had emotionally abandoned him.

Yet in the moments just as Draco had arrived, he was sure he had heard the laughter of both his son and Harry, and the sounds brought hope and joy to his soul. His son had found a friend of his own kind, and Harry had found the world again.

Suddenly the temptation to join the comfortable pair was nearly suffocating, yet Draco knew he must refrain. His presence would surely shatter the comfort and peace of the moment, and he would not, could not do that to his son or Harry. Seeing him again would throw Harry's newfound, sure to be shaky trust in the world into tumult, and Draco refused to be the cause of Harry's disquiet ever again. So he watched from afar, biding his time, and smiling the secretive smile that only a father could understand.

His son had done what Draco had always hoped he would. He had followed his heart, befriended the friendless, and brought peace into the life of the one who deserved it most.

He considered then just how long he should wait to try and bring his son home. He knew he would be met with much resistance, knew that his son must have been furious indeed to have fled Malfoy Manor in such a rage. Not that he could blame him, Draco thought miserably. He had been a sorry excuse for a father, neglecting his son in a most inexcusable manner while he strove to look after Harry, strove to prove himself to Dumbledore and the others. That task was decidedly easy, however, considering the overwhelming proof in his favor.

Like the fact that Dumbledore himself was alive, when Harry saw him murdered at the end of Draco's wand.


	8. When Kept Veiled

_**A/N: I hope that everyone is satisfied with the route I'm taking, and I want ya'll to know that if anything is not to your liking then please tell me, I have no qualms of changing the story up to suit your desires, at least in some ways, because very little of the story is already fixed in my mind anyway so a change would pretty much be unnoticed to me. Hope ya'll like this chapter, and thank you**_ SO _**much for reviewing!**_

* * *

Harry smiled when Raiden's voice became thick and drowsy. The youth had had a long and exciting day, and was finally succumbing to the drag of sleep. Harry let Raiden slouch against him, resting his head on his shoulder, and let his voice become low and melodic as sleep hedged closer and closer into Raiden's form. Finally the youth's soft breathing evened out, and he slumped completely against Harry, fast asleep, still sitting upright.

Harry leaned his own weight against Raiden, using his own body to prop up the youth's, and resting his head atop the soft cushion of Raiden's blond hair. He smiled at the simplicity of the moment, the trust and care that Raiden had to feel toward the elder to fall asleep on his shoulder so easily.

It made Harry wish he remembered how to trust so completely. It had been a long time since he had felt comfortable enough with a person to sleep in their presence. Betrayal and fear had one too many times bitten him, and left him bitter and distrustful of those around him. Yet in that moment, he wanted to believe, wanted to trust, but still, fear kept him awake.

For five years he had dreamt the same stream of dreams, and every night awoke in a fit of his grief and rage. He had no reason to believe that this night would be any different. He suddenly was terrified of letting Raiden be around him while he slept, but not for the reasons he used to nurse.

He didn't want the youth to have to experience the fear of awakening to his new friend's screams. Harry knew that Raiden had heard his screams already, that the screams of his sleep were indeed what brought the young one to him. But he did not want to make the youth witness them in their awful entirety, and know what caused them.

A pair of hours after Raiden nodded off to sleep, Harry was still wide awake. He wasn't entirely sure what to do about his young friend. He could not under any circumstances leave Raiden lying unprotected on the face of the cliff, but knew that he had to return to the cave lest he not be able to awaken to reality. He depended on the echo of the cave to jolt him alert, and feared what would happen without the cave's influence.

That left only one option to him: carry Raiden up the cliff, into the cave. But that, too, had its disadvantages, for surely awakening to screams of agony in the pitch blackness would be more terrifying even than waking to them in the light?

Yet how was he to both protect himself and his young friend at once?

The answer came to him suddenly and he resolved to it easily. He would keep watch over the youth while he slept, there on the side of the cliff, and then send Raiden into town while he tried to rest, if it could even be called such. The solution was easy, and he berated himself for the amount of time it had taken to come to the conclusion.

After another half hour he was having trouble remembering why he shouldn't just let himself fall asleep on Raiden's shoulder. Sleep threatened to drag his eyes closed however much he resisted, and he finally admitted defeat after another half hour. He lowered Raiden carefully onto his back and, after a moment's hesitation shrugged out of his shirt and transfigured it into a pillow, which he tucked under Raiden's head. As a last precaution he shuffled several feet away to prevent himself clawing at Raiden in the clutches of his dreams. Satisfied that he had done all he was likely going to be able to do to protect Raiden, he propped his head on a rock and fell instantly asleep.

* * *

As dawn stole across the land Raiden was awakened by a moan. He jolted awake, knowing instantly who and what the moan signified. He lurched upright, eyes wildly roving the area around him for the source of the sound. 

He finally spotted Harry a few feet away. The expression on his face was one of deepest grief, and he was moaning as he dashed his fists against the ground. Raiden wasn't sure if he just hadn't worked himself into a full-fledged scream yet, or if he was today more sedated. Either way, Raiden felt compelled to try to do something about it.

He moved onto his knees to crawl over to Harry but froze when he spotted the pillow. As a grin spread across his face he glanced back at Harry, only then noticing his lack of clothing from the waist up. Raiden snatched the pillow from the ground and carried it over to Harry, replacing the rock with the pillow. For a moment Harry's struggles stilled, but then he began thrashing and moaning with renewed vigor.

Only then did Raiden realize that words accompanied the moans from Harry's tormented dreams. He leaned closer, until his ear nearly touched Harry's lips, and shuddered with the chill of realization.

"Please, have mercy," Harry begged, and panted as he writhed. "She's pregnant, have mercy, please. Hermione!" Harry screamed the name, and Raiden jolted as though struck, his ear having still been straining right near Harry's lips. He shook his head to clear the ringing and sorrow clutched at his heartstrings. To learn that Harry's dear friend had been carrying an unborn child, and for his father to have so heartlessly murdered that child, was unforgivable. Hatred, hot and cloying, welled within Raiden's breast. Hatred directed toward his father and his grandfather. He cursed his own name.

Struggling under the guilt that assailed him, guilt at being related to the two beasts who called themselves men, he shuffled closer to the sleeping man, resting a hand solidly on his shoulder. He began to murmur softly into Harry's ear, hoping to help Harry in his subconscious turmoil.

"It's alright, Harry, you'll be alright. You're only dreaming, Harry, don't give yourself over to the memories. I know it's hard but you have to move on, Harry, you have to be strong."

"And what if I don't want to?" The words were sighed on a whisper, and Raiden jerked away in surprise to gaze at Harry, only to find that Harry was still deep in the clutches of his dream. Yet he was sure Harry was conversing with him.

"What if I don't want to move on?" he questioned again, his voice raising and his fists clenching.

"You have to," Raiden responded calmly.

"I'm tired of having to be strong for everyone else," he whimpered, and Raiden's heart broke.

"Then make others be strong for you."

"How?" he quivered, shaking his head.

Raiden froze. How indeed? How could he… "Lean on the ones you love."

A grieved moan escaped Harry and Raiden winced and berated his own stupidity. "The ones who love you! Raiden!" He gasped out desperately, longing to change the subject from Harry's dearly departed. "Rely on Raiden. He cares about you already. You're… you're more a father to him in one day that his father has been in ten years."

Slowly the tension left Harry's face. "Raiden," he murmured, as though tasting the name and finding it very sweet indeed. In moments a smile had cracked his face, and his clenched fists relaxed.

Raiden marveled at the abruptness of Harry's attitude change. Did the elder truly think so highly of him that merely the thought of their day together could dispel the thoughts of the past?

Carefully Raiden shifted until he could lie close to Harry in case the nightmares plagued the elder once again. He didn't want to be too far away to be of any use, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew also that he didn't want to be too far away from Harry to listen to him breathe.

When he was younger his father had let him sleep in his lap or next to him in bed, using his shoulder or stomach as a pillow, but in the year of what Raiden considered to be his father's betrayal, all of that stopped. Raiden was no longer permitted to show affection for his father, no more hugs, no more touches, and certainly no sleeping in his arms.

And while he understood that his father had a reputation to uphold, and he understood that his father did not want anyone to get the wrong impression of their relationship, he did not understand why his father was so cold. Only upon meeting Harry did Raiden understand that his father had in that year become a very bad man, a murderer and a villain.

And only upon meeting Harry did Raiden realize that he had been missing the sound of his father's voice while he slept, missing the deep tremble in his chest when his father spoke to him as he lay in his arms.

He was no longer a little boy, he knew, and he also knew that he should no longer require the love of his father to be happy. Many children his age, his friends, resented what their fathers represented, resented that their fathers were always invading their lives and trying to control them. Yet for nine years Raiden Malfoy had been begging for that same interference from his own father, to no avail.

* * *

"Where is young Raiden?" Theodore Nott questioned with an unpleasant leer. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. The man was not exactly a Death Eater, yet he certainly wasn't what one would consider a good man. Sometimes, Draco mused that the only thing which stood between Nott and being a Death Eater was energy. Theodore was a lazy, self-centered son of a bitch, and Draco hated that he had to keep him as an associate. Yet some things were just not worth risking feuds over. Theodore expected to be in Draco's inner circle for some blasted reason, and Draco knew that if he suddenly dispensed of all of the 'friends' that he kept, people would look too closely at his habits, and would discover the truth which he had kept hidden for nearly twenty years. 

"He's staying over at a friend's," Draco replied aloofly, and hoped that the discussion would be dropped then. Yet Theodore did not let the subject rest, as Draco had hoped. He rubbed his hands together and shrugged.

"You spoil that little brat too much," Theodore sniffed.

Draco had to fight back a wave of nausea. He had been forced to ignore his son for nine years in order to keep him safe, and Theodore had the nerve to say he spoiled him? Since when was neglect doting?

Draco was also nearly overwhelmed by the urge to insist that nobody called his son a brat. Raiden, Draco wanted to scream, was a good boy, a nice boy, a perfect son. But he couldn't defend his son, any more than he could truly spoil him.

"Yes, well, we do what we must," he replied instead, motioning toward the paperwork littering his desk. "If I hadn't gotten him out of the house, I would never be able to get anything done."

"Ah, a whiner, is he? I could help you break him of that."

Suddenly Draco's heart froze. He knew of Nott's penchant for violence, and didn't want to imagine the pain he could inflict on his young son.

Draco plastered a smirk on his face to cover his disgust. "Thank you for the offer, Nott, but I think I can manage rearing my son."

Theodore barked a laugh. "Oh, I'm Nott, now, am I?"

Draco tried his best not to show his irritation by smiling in a manner he thought would appease the other. "Theo. I apologize, I am a little overwrought. I think my brain is so used to filing that everything is last name, comma, first name."

Theo snorted and brushed a speck of lint from his knee. "Right, right. I'm not bothering your work, am I, Draco?"

Draco nearly said yes, could you please leave, but at the last moment realized that Theo was testing him, and nearly choked. What on earth had given Nott reason to distrust him?

"Of course not, Theo. I'm sorry if I seem to be diverting my attention elsewhere. Was there some matter with which I could assist you?"

Theo smiled in a most repulsive manner, and shook his head. "Now, does old Theo need a reason to visit his old chum?"

"Of course not," Draco forced out with a plastered on smile. "It's always a pleasure to entertain you, of course. Would you like something to drink?"

"Firewhisky'll surely hit the spot right about now, don't you think?" he responded instantly, and Draco nodded as he conjured the desired drink. He poured a glass for each of them, and while Nott tossed his back in one gulp and motioned for more, Draco inconspicuously transfigured the whiskey into tea. He so hated to drink so early in the day, and indeed he hated the alcohol at any time of the day. He preferred not to get sloppy in the presence of enemies who called themselves friends.

"Yeah," Nott groused after a third drink. "The last time I saw that little rug rat was when you let me use the manor for my birthday party. Snarky little bastard. I'd like to get my hands on him one day soon."

"Theo," Draco began with a curious lilt to his voice. "That was five years ago. You've seen Raiden a number of times since then."

Theo tossed back the drink and graced Draco with the most gruesome of leers. "Have I, then? Silly me. Sometimes things like that slip my mind, you know."

Draco narrowed his eyes briefly before smoothing his expression. "Yes, of course. Tell me, Theo. You've mentioned that party several times over the years, even more so than the one I personally threw you two years ago. And, well, I must say that I outdid myself with that celebration, yet you persist in mentioning the one you threw yourself. It makes me wonder just what was at that party that held your attention so avidly."

Nott raised a brow in challenge.

"I'd love to be able to repeat the performance for you if at all possible," Draco lied with ease. "I thought I'd had all of the bases covered with that celebration, yet something obviously was missing. Seeing as your birthday is coming up again soon, I'd like to know what that missing thing was to…"

"Nothing you can help, mate," Theodore cut in rudely, and shrugged his shoulders. "A 'repeat performance,' however enjoyable that sounds, is very likely impossible."

Draco forced another smile and nodded. "Ah. I'm sorry to hear that."


	9. Is The Neglected Son's

Raiden awoke a second time when Harry clutched at his wrist. Adrenaline surged through Raiden's form, and he jolted upright. 

Harry was still asleep, Raiden noticed first. He frowned with that knowledge. But at least this time he did not appear to be in pain.

And with the thought of pain, Raiden realized that a good deal of it was radiating from the wrist that Harry held. He winced as said pain increased, as Harry tightened his crushing grasp.

"Harry," Raiden crooned gently. "Harry, let go, you're hurting me."

Those fingers, already white from gripping his wrists too tightly, constricted.

"Harry!" Raiden gasped, and reached to try to pry the fingers away one at a time. Yet the elder was much stronger, and every attempt Raiden made to pull him away only caused him to clutch his prey more tightly.

"Harry, it's me, Raiden," he said into Harry's ear, and was dismayed when the words were hardly more than a whimper. He could have sworn he felt his radius and ulna rasping together, and gritted his teeth. "Ha-rry!" he growled, and redoubled his efforts to free himself of Harry's grasp. He managed to pry Harry's index finger away but the moment he began plucking at Harry's middle finger, Harry lashed out, bringing his free fist around to connect solidly with Raiden's jaw. Raiden yelped and fell back, losing his grip on Harry's index finger to favor his jaw with probing fingers. Abandoning his gentle approach, he jerked hard on his wrist as he yelled his objection at Harry, when the pain seemed to reach its zenith.

Harry's eyes flew open and instantly he was upon his quarry, the fingers of his free hand curling about the youth's throat even as he used the hand which grasped the other's wrist to drag him forward and down. Raiden gasped in a breath before Harry's clutching fingers stole that ability from him, and he hardly was able to manage a croak of objection and confusion as Harry bore down on him.

"Slimy bleeding Malfoy!" Harry growled, and Raiden pushed feebly against his shoulder, writhing beneath the elder's weight as Harry used his lower body to pin Raiden's legs. Raiden's struggles were ebbing rapidly, as the strength was leaving him with each passing moment. "How could you do that to me, how could you give me to them? I thought you…"

The rest of Harry's enraged growls were drowned from Raiden's ears by the throbbing of his own pulse, but he had heard enough to realize that Harry was still trapped in the grip of memory. Suddenly he turned his attention from pushing Harry away, knowing it was useless, as Harry was not only older and stronger, but enraged beyond caring about physical pain, and prayed he would be able to appeal to Harry's rational side before it was too late.

He struggled to form words in his own defense, but the effort cost him much and he knew before long that even if he did manage to speak, the words would be too muted for Harry to hear over his own furious howls. Raiden knew that within moments his brain would begin to shut down, after being deprived of oxygen for so long. His life may well hang on his actions in the next few moments.

He mouthed his own name, hoping that Harry would recognize the motion of his lips and snap out of his haze, but to no avail. He gripped the wrist of the hand which clutched his neck, begging with his lips and eyes and indeed his very soul for Harry to come to himself in time.

As darkness began to surge across Raiden's vision, he thought sadly how upset Harry would be when he realized he had killed the wrong Malfoy. His brain began to short circuit, sending mixed messages of pain and pleasure, and he felt the stones beneath him both as scalding hot and icy cold. He suddenly could feel each sharp edge of each pebble and rock, and as he bucked against his captor and darkness danced cruelly across his eyes, his hand fell away from Harry's wrist to dart across the ground in a spasm. The rocks tore at his fingers and suddenly his hand was brought to a halt with his fingers resting across a large stone.


	10. Shame And Misfortune

Harry came awake slowly. Immediately upon opening his eyes the world began to spin, and his hands clasped his head to still the violent tilting. He groaned aloud, cursing viciously. His memories were foggy and though he searched his mind for the reasons behind his memory lapse there were none. He probed his temples gingerly, and winced when pain lanced through his skull. He drew his hands away and stared in horror at the blood coating his right hand, and returned it to probe again at his right temple. For the first time in so long, the blood on his hand when he woke was not from his broken fingertips.

He felt nausea lurch through him as his fingers connected again with the broken flesh on his head, and ceased testing the wound for fear of the pain rendering him unconscious again. Instead he focused his attention outward.

And noticed that he was imprisoned in a wall of impure glass.

Panic welled within his breast as he tried to recall what was happening. Unlike so many nights where he woke up disoriented and thought himself still within the clutches of the Death Eaters, he had thought for once he was perfectly cognizant of his surroundings. The last he remembered…

Draco suddenly appeared, garbed in the same skintight black jeans and black turtle neck he had worn that day. The day he had stolen everything from Harry. He graced Harry with a smirk as he strode deliberately toward the glass enclosure, and Harry was too confused and startled to object or even blink.

"What have you done to me?" he rasped at length, and Draco shrugged one graceful shoulder.

"I'm only finishing what you started," he responded calmly, and touched the tips of his fingers to the glass. "You know, Harry, you sure are a beautiful little shit. I could very happily keep you in there for…"

"You… sick son of a bitch."

"…ever. Watch your mouth, Potter."

… was he was strangling Draco.

The last thing he remembered was strangling Draco, he realized suddenly as the fog across his memory cleared for the briefest of instants before swallowing up the rest of his memory.

But no, that's not right.

Harry shook his head sharply and hissed at the pain it caused. He pressed his palms to his eyes and concentrated. He knew he was missing something, but what?

"Sorry I had to knock you out so violently." Draco's voice was choppy and thick, unlike his usual soft purr. Harry wondered briefly why he had the distinct impression that he was missing something very important.

Then in a flash it hit him. The townspeople. The starlit sky. Falling asleep on the side of the cliff.

Raiden.

He hadn't realized he'd spoken the name aloud until Draco snarled at him. "Yes, that is why I had to knock you out. You were killing my son."

"Raiden," Harry repeated, and his heart flopped over itself as he berated himself most viciously for letting himself think that he could control his dreams enough to sleep within miles of the young one. What had he done?

"Yes. All the more reason for me to hate you," Draco scowled. "You killed my only son!"

Harry's throat seemed to close on itself. "No!" he rasped, and Draco wrinkled his face up disgustingly.

"Too late for sorry now," he snarled, and motioned toward a body on the floor that Harry had previously not been permitted by the glass to see. Raiden was lying on his back, pale as death.

The glass around him was controlled utterly by the caster. If the caster did not wish for him to see a body at his feet, then he would not see the body, even if he were about to step on it. If a caster decided it wanted him to be completely deaf to the sound of breathing, so he became.

Harry could not see or hear Raiden's breath. Panic and guilt tore at his chest and he clutched at his own chest in an attempt to ease the pain. He cursed his memory for being so vague. He remembered closing his hand over the throat of the darker haired Malfoy, yet he did not remember much after that. He remembered, now, the look of terror and desperation in Raiden's eyes, but could not remember the youth's last breath.

"You're lying," Harry growled with sudden certainty he could not back up with logic of any kind. "He's not dead," he snapped.

Draco motioned to the boy and sighed dramatically. "Alas, my son is dead. At your hand. If you thought to get back at me for killing your silly little friends then you have another thing coming. Raiden is nothing more than a spoiled little brat, and I am better off without him."

"You're lying! Raiden is not a…" Only as Harry himself said "Raiden is" did he realize that Draco, too, had spoken of Raiden in the present tense. Did that mean something, Harry wondered? "… brat, nor is he spoiled. You neglected him for…"

"Boo fucking hoo," Draco responded coldly. "He should just grow up and deal with it like rest of us. He should get it through his thick skull that his daddy is a very busy man."

Harry narrowed his eyes. The years since he had last seen Draco had changed the blond very much. True, physically he was just as fit and seemed not to have aged a day, but his mentality…

Harry mused that the five years between their last meeting had made Draco stupider. And suddenly he knew how to manipulate that observation.

"He's not dead," Harry asserted, desperate to be right. He could not bear to be wrong. To have killed the young Malfoy…

He couldn't even bear to think it.

"You're telling me that he's not dead? You who can't feel that he has no pulse?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and his ever-sharp brain calculated the boy at Draco's feet. "The marks," he rasped, clinging to hope that Draco would be none the wiser to his ploy. "The marks on his throat, wrist. They don't look right. If he were truly dead they would be much paler than they are, because the blood would not have a chance to gather at those points." As he spoke he imagined ways to make himself sound more informed in the matter. "Bruises are formed by the blood from the broken capillaries gathering just beneath the surface of the skin. In death all of the blood in a body gathers at the lowest extremity. In this case, his back. There would not be such livid marks on his throat, because as the bruises began to form the circulation would have stopped. The blood would have no way to make it to the front of his throat."

Draco's eyes were a touch wide when Harry finished spouting the nonsense he'd created. Then as Harry cocked a challenging brow, Draco burst into laughter.

Harry winced at the sound of the laugh. It was cold and throaty and not at all the laugh Harry remembered.

This laugh, Harry realized, inspired no fear in his heart.

"You are quite a smart little son of a bitch," Draco snorted. "Where'd you learn all that? Looks like there's no fooling you. Alright, fine, I managed to get here in time to knock you out before you killed him. Slick little bastard."

Harry's expression was smug. "I was just making shit up, you dumb ass. That whole tirade was utter bullshit."

Draco stopped laughing instantly. "You… you just… you… damn it!"

Harry couldn't help the bitterly victorious laugh that escaped him as Draco struggled to contain his fury at having been duped.

However Harry's humor died instantly as Draco's fury smoothed and he gripped Raiden by the hair, dragging his upper body off the floor.

"No matter," Draco hissed. "We can solve that little dilemma pretty damn easily. Your precious little child doesn't have to stay alive long."

Harry's fist connected hard with the glass as Draco pointed his wand at Raiden's heart. "No!" he screamed. "Stop! This isn't about him, this is between you and me. Leave him out of it. Let him go! Kill me, god damn you, just kill me and be done with it! It's what you've wanted since you turned, damn you, you've wanted me dead! Just kill me! You fucking coward! You could never face me outright, could you! You used my friends to get to me but you weren't strong enough to finish me off! So do it! Do it now!"

"Don't you see, though, Potter?" Draco responded, his voice hardened and rivaling Harry's own in fury and volume. "Don't you see, that he was so brilliant in completely killing you! You are nothing without your little fan base! Nothing! You are a miserable stupid fuck! Hiding for nine months inside this creepy old cave! There is no way to more completely destroy another being besides the one he used against you! You will never be able to be a whole man again, Harry, not without your friends. You will never again be happy, never again be useful, you'll always be a miserable shard of who you used to be."

Harry couldn't dispute the words the blond one spoke. He had been hiding from the world, he had been broken and useless. True death, Harry knew, would not be half so terrible as this.

So instead his mouth remained sealed, his hands clenched in fury. His eyes burned with hatred and rage, but he was powerless against Draco, and they both knew it.

There was so much burning in his heart that he wanted, needed to say. Questions and demands and proclamations, so much that he wanted to know and be known.

"Why?" was all he managed, as he looked into the fury of Draco's eyes. For an instant, Harry knew, his true weakness had shown through, his desperate wish that Draco had truly been who he had convinced Harry he was. The agony of that, the deepest of betrayals, cut deeper than he thought possible.

"Because I've always hated you," Draco replied simply.

Harry withdrew as though burned, though he had known the answer. But to hear it spoken so roughly, from those lips that looked like Draco's but spilled the words of someone else, someone entirely cruel and hateful, was too much to bear.

The words were those of someone who would kill his own son to spite his enemy.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched Harry, and he released Raiden to let him thud against the cavern floor once more. "You…" Draco began, but suddenly seemed to think better of what he'd been about to say. He shook his head and strutted away from Raiden's oh so still form, glaring.

"It's been five years. Five years. You've spent the whole time running. You've run from the past just as surely as you've run from h…me." He wrinkled his face up in an expression of intense dislike. "You really are a coward," he decided with a nod.

Harry curled his lip. "This from a man who put an unconscious man into a cage to keep him from doing any magic. Who…" Suddenly the memory of Raiden's last struggle surged through him. Raiden's limp hand falling against the rock. Those pale fingers clenching almost as if in a spasm. The crunch of the rock connecting to his temple. The resultant darkness. "Who claims to have been his son's hero when in fact he defended himself. Where was his father when he ran away so many nights ago? Too deep into his firewhisky to notice his son's absence?"

"Draco doesn't drink," the other scoffed, and Harry imitated a gag.

"And Harry hates it when pompous assholes speak of themselves in the third person," he retorted, and Draco seemed to be confused by his statement.

"You're trying to confuse me again," Draco accused lamely, and Harry barked a laugh.

"No, I'm truly not. You're just naturally confused."

Draco snarled, but suddenly tensed and looked back at Raiden's still form. The boy, it seemed, was waking up, and in intense pain. He made a high keening noise in the back of his throat as he came awake, and his hands reached to his throat as though he could still feel Harry's hand upon it. He gagged as his hands touched the bruised flesh there, and struggled to sit up. The pain which tore through him had him crumpling back against the ground, but panic and determination had him moving again. He managed to get halfway up before nausea washed over him, and his chest and stomach began to heave as he struggled with his conflicting desires and reflexes. His hands fell away from his throat to press against his stomach, and suddenly the pain of his heaving seemed to outweigh the pain of his throat. He jolted upright and doubled over, his throat working to dispel bile and whatever he had ingested.

Harry watched in horror as Raiden began to breathe even more heavily. His hands seemed to want to clutch at his throat but the pain drove him back repeatedly. The look in his face went from scared to terrified to full-blown panic as he struggled to draw breath into his damaged throat. His eyes roved the cave wildly, unseeing, as tears welled. He continued to gag on the air, and only when Draco swept down upon him did Raiden's eyes focus.

"Father!" he rasped, and instantly began coughing and gagging again. He didn't see the wand in his father's hand being raised, didn't hear the word his father spoke, in fact had no prior reason to suspect what happened, until the searing pain jolted through his nerves.

"Crucio," Draco rasped. 


	11. The Hidden Love

**_Thank you for reviewing! Love you guys:)_**

* * *

He paced. Tension evident in his every step, he paced. Worry and fear swirling through his every thought, he paced. This wasn't right, something was wrong, why wasn't he awake yet? He paced. 

The crystal glass smacked against the bar and he splashed a healthy dose of firewhisky into the fine cup. In an instant he washed the whiskey down with another glass of its own kind.

Then he paced. It was three hours after his usual awakening, and yet he slept still. Why did the man still sleep?

His heart tripped in fear and guilt. Why wasn't the raven haired beauty awakening?

Draco paced his study, his nerves near to breaking with the tension. The urge to check in on Harry was nearly overwhelming. The spell he had renewed the night before, the healing spell, had not been triggered. Which meant that Harry had not awakened and moved out of his cubby.

Suddenly another fear gripped him. What if Harry had never made it into his cave? What if Harry had gotten attacked there on the edge of the cliff?

Then he remembered the great pleasure Raiden had gotten from watching the stars, and hoped with every fiber of his being that they had simply not returned to the depressing cave, had traded the dark interior of the cave for the brilliant star-strewn night sky.

Yes, Draco decided, that had to be it. That just _had_ to be. He simply could not live with any alternative.


	12. Creates Old Grudges

**_I'm sorry I'm confusing you guys :winces: I'm trying to clear some of it up more quickly than I'd initially planned because I don't want yall to get so confused you get disinterested in the story, because I'd die without your wonderful reviews:D_**

* * *

Pain may have fogged his mind but his memory was still sharp as ever. He remembered the look on that face, the face of a Greek god, carved from statue, too beautiful to touch. The look which screamed love and devotion. The look which Harry Potter had ever since cherished. 

Since that day in their seventh year, when Draco had sworn his devotion to the raven haired one, Harry had kept that part of himself close. He recalled every time Draco had given him that look, and had reveled in it. It was only that look which had convinced him to give Draco the chance to become a spy against his father.

Draco had dropped to his knees before Harry, his hands clasped before him and his eyes full of that look, that look of utter devotion. "I will be your eyes, I will be your ears, I will be your hands and feet, and I will be his downfall. Let me help you, my love, and I will aid in my father's destruction."

Those two words, 'my love,' had rolled off his smooth tongue with such ease that Harry's heart had skipped. He had for so long loved the blond Slytherin from afar, yet had never moved on his intentions. He knew that what he and Draco shared was beyond lust, beyond human longing. They understood each other so profoundly that Harry did not need a sexual relationship with the blond. They were brothers, yet shared no blood, they were lovers, yet shared no intimacy, beyond briefly stolen kisses and fond caresses. They were meant to be together, forever and always, but something always seemed to damage their chances. First the First Dark Lord, then the rebuilding of the world from his destruction. The pair had been closer than ever, then, when they had worked side by side to build the world, together, for the future of the wizarding world. And then Draco's father had risen, the Second Dark Lord, and everything had shattered.

Draco had been forced to pledge himself to his father, his lord, and Harry had pledged to kill all involved with the Second Dark Lord. He had pressed his love for the blond onto the back burner, ignored the pain that threatened to swell inside him when he heard of the blond joining his father. Then, so much later, Draco had reappeared, wandless and at Harry's mercy, begging to rejoin his lover's ranks. And Harry had eagerly complied, instantly accepting the man he loved back into his fold, against the objections of his people. He had stood by his love when they had ridiculed him, and he had sworn his protection.

Then had come the time that Harry desperately needed to disappear from Lucius Malfoy's radar. He had picked the least obvious person in the world to hold the key to his whereabouts, and had not hesitated to allow Draco to swear the oath. He knew that the ways of Secret-Keeping had long since evolved, until the power of the oath was so strong that the Secret-Keeper simply could not disclose the location of the one he hid, on pain of instant death. Yet he had faith that his love would not even try to betray him. After all they had been through together, there was no doubt that he held Draco's dedication.

When, three weeks later, the headquarters were raided with Harry among those captured, everyone involved instantly blamed the Slytherin. Yet Harry had still, even then, defended his Draco, insisting that there just had to be some other explanation. Until the last moment, so long after they had begun torturing his friends, his family, his life, when Draco strode in to deliver the killing blows. Then while Snape had writhed from the pain of the curses placed upon him, Lucius had ordered Draco to cut out the elder's lying tongue, and Draco had complied with gusto.

In those two weeks during which he had watched his love torture and kill everything Good, Harry had learned to hate.


	13. And New Betrayals

The curse fell away, and for the third time, Raiden collapsed against the ground, his mind confused and in too much pain to comprehend what was going on. The agony of the curse coupled with that of his physical ailments were enough to make Raiden babble incoherently. And then suddenly he felt himself being lifted up, the very air beneath him becoming solid and hurling him against the back cavern wall. He slammed into the wall and then thudded onto the ground, and felt bones in his arms and ribs protest and snap.

He could hear someone screaming, and though he could not place the voice he knew that whomever it was, was in great pain. Someone was begging his attacker to release him, he realized slowly. Someone very upset.

Raiden struggled to think past his pain. He had never before been assaulted so viciously, not even when Theodore Nott had taken that whip to him during his birthday party. And now…

Now his father was the one doing the attacking.

Never before had he considered that his father hated him. He knew at times that his father was displeased with him, when he was sent from the room while his father's associates were present. He remembered the look of fury dancing beneath his father's eyes when he sent him from the room, but nothing had ever prepared him for this reaction. The look in his father's eyes was not sane, was not calm, was not collected, was not Draco Malfoy. Something very traumatic had to have happened to his father in order for him to be so shaken and violent. Never before had his father lifted a hand against his son.

Then Raiden remembered Harry's telling of the things his father had done, and his heart broke. His father was not a good man. His father was not a sane man.

Slowly he felt something stirring within him. Something which soothed the wounds his father had inflicted. Swiftly he felt the swelling in his throat ebb, and the broken arm and ribs clicked back into place. His nerves were soothed with a cooling touch, and the effect of the curse his father had used upon him was shoved away. Raiden could think again, see again, breathe without pain again, all within moments.

His eyes focused on the form of Harry first, on his knees within the enclosure, begging for the life of Raiden to be spared. Then his eyes slid to his father. He had to look away quickly from that mottled face, that face full of fury. He hardly recognized his father any longer.

No, he corrected himself silently. He hardly recognized Draco Malfoy. He could not think of the man as his father.

His eyes landed on the wall against which he had fallen. He shifted imperceptibly, his eyes widening as they took in the blood coated walls. He had fallen against the wall where Harry slept, where Harry clawed his hands away.

Raiden's heart stuttered as he realized what his father was doing. He had not had a chance to think on it previously. But now that his mind had been cleared of the pain, he could connect the dots. His father was recreating the scene of Harry's nightmares: Harry enclosed within a hagani spell, having to watch as his closest friend, his only friend, was tortured, and, Raiden knew with chilling certainty, killed.

He couldn't let it happen. He knew that the trauma of watching Raiden killed would drive Harry over the edge. Briefly Raiden wondered just why he was so sure of his own place in Harry's heart, but then he remembered Harry's words from the day before.

"I think that you're probably the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Raiden's heart tripped and he felt himself begin to boil with hatred for his father, the man whose love he had for so long ached for, the man who had told him as a boy never to use dark magic, no matter what the circumstances. The man who had been a proud Malfoy, the man who had once held him in his arms and rocked him to sleep. Raiden had never before felt such violent emotions, all clashing and aching and converging into one single thought: he had to save himself, and Harry, for Harry's sake. Even if it meant killing his father. 


	14. As The Innocent Suffer

Draco fell to his knees on the fine oriental rug in his study as pain he had never before known washed over him. His mouth opened on a scream that he could not control despite his deep longing to. He clutched at his throat, his stomach, his arm, agony searing his nerve endings. 

His arm felt as though it were detached from his body, and his ribs as though fire were threatening to overtake him. And the rest, the rest of his body, was sheer pain, magnified. His throat closed in upon itself, and Draco looked down at himself in horror as the wounds of another were echoed onto him for the span of thirty seconds. He screamed again, this time in fury, as he realized that his fears had been confirmed.

He had placed a spell around Harry's cubby to heal him as he exited it, but had also placed two others: one to alert him to when the healing spell was triggered, and another to echo the wounds Harry had inflicted upon himself onto Draco, so that Draco could keep track of the damage Harry had done himself. This last was a precaution to prevent Harry doing too much damage to himself. Draco fretted that one day Harry would take the last step toward insanity and begin to harm himself in ways that Draco could not permit.

In the case of such an occurrence, Draco knew he had only two options. One, to confront Harry in an attempt to convince the raven haired one of his innocence. This option was particularly risky, as he knew that Harry would, most likely, kill Draco the instant he saw him, and Draco would never get a chance to redeem himself nor would Harry be rescued. So that left Draco with another option, one he deplored just as much, but knew would be better for Harry. He would have to tell one of Harry's old friends where Harry was hiding, and as a result would die. The spell left no way to get around it. In the instant when he told Harry's whereabouts, he would be consumed by the fires of the spell, and would die a rather painful death.

But Harry would be found and saved. And that was all that Draco cared about.

For the last few months during which he had watched over Harry's cave, he had been trying to find a way to overcome his predicament. He knew that delaying the inevitable, his own death, was selfish, but every time he had worked up the nerve to tell Dumbledore Harry's location, his son had walked into the room, all innocent eyes and longing heart, and he had not had the strength to do it. He longed to be alive for a time when he could openly display his love for his son, when he could dismiss his current associates and scream his loyalty for the Order into the open. Yet until Harry Potter himself returned and was safe, he could not cause such a stir. He would not endanger himself and his son for the dream of something that simply could not happen. He knew that the world they lived in was still too shattered, too scared and broken down, to put himself on the line, unaccepted by both sides. The effect the day he did such a thing would have on his tender natured son was likely to be disastrous unless he could guarantee his son a place in the ranks of the Order and their protection. A place among their love.

But this! This agony, this cruel infliction of pain, was too much. He knew that Harry would have no way of inflicting this type of pain on himself, so someone else had to be there, someone had to be torturing Harry.

Draco had no choice. He apparated to Hermione's house.

* * *

Harry's tears blurred the world around him until he could hardly see the youth arching in pain, blurred his vision so much that he could no longer detect the marks around Raiden's throat.

Harry blinked. Twice. His vision cleared and he focused on the boy's neck. The marks were gone.

His eyes flickered to the enraged Draco Malfoy, yet the other seemed not to have noticed the absence of bruises.

Yet what did it mean? Had Raiden found a way to heal himself, or had someone else intervened? Was this the same effect that his hands had been subject to for the last several months? He knew that his hands, after he had clawed at the walls, always healed on their own, but would the same thing be happening to Raiden? And if so, was it possible that Raiden could fight back?

Harry beat against the Hagani Wall and screamed Draco's name. The blond smirked as he tossed Harry a glance which froze his soul, but Harry knew that he had to do something to allow Raiden to gather himself. He had to distract Draco long enough for Raiden to run.

"Draco, please," he sobbed, and as much as he wanted to believe that his next words were a lie, he knew the truth, and it cut him deeply. "Draco, please, stop! I love you!"

That got the blond one's attention. Raiden fell still, released from the spell, and Draco spun to face Harry.

"What did you say!" he rasped, his eyes wild and wide.

Harry met his eyes squarely. "I'm… still in love with you, Draco," he murmured, softly. He felt surprise sweeping across Draco's stony features, and knew then that something was seriously wrong. He had told Draco many times that he loved him, before the betrayal. There was no reason that this should come as such a surprise to the Slytherin.

Unless Draco had lost his memory?

Draco strode toward the kneeling man, eyes glinting maliciously. Harry felt the animosity radiating from Draco, the fury and the rage, and shuddered.

Then Draco was upon him, his lips brushing the glass just before Harry's when he spoke. "In that case, lover boy, I have some very interesting plans for you."

Harry's eyes felt as though they were being clawed out as Draco's unfeeling gaze stabbed his own. He felt his heart trip and suddenly could imagine very clearly the sort of plans Draco was speaking of.

Draco raised a hand to press against the glass between them, letting his hand phase though the material, and ran his thumb across Harry's lips. Harry shuddered under his touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and cursed that his heart so desperately wanted this type of affection from the other man. He was too weak to stop loving the heartless bastard. Too weak not to be affected. His eyes opened once again to see the smug look on Draco's drawn features.

"If you're a good boy," Draco murmured with a victorious smirk. "I'll let you share my bed."

Those words struck a cord in Harry's heart, made him think again that he was definitely missing something important. Something was wrong, even more so than it appeared at first glance.

And suddenly Raiden was there, behind Draco, with a large stone clasped in his hand.


	15. And Find Within Themselves

**_A/N:Cackle: I'm so evil! Thank you guys so much for your reviews! And thank you Jose for pointing out all of my typos even if you called like a billion times while I was trying to sleep! Luckily only three of those times were to report a typo! Yay!_**

* * *

Raiden had just begun to gather himself to launch an attack when the curse hit him again. He arched away from the floor, his mind reeling, and tried to control himself enough to keep his wits about him for when the curse was again lifted. He would have no time to spare. He would have to act quickly, with no regard for his own pain. He _could not fail_.

Then suddenly he heard Harry's voice, louder than ever, scream his father's name. He heard Harry's desperate claim, and knew that Harry was trying to distract his father to let him, Raiden, escape. But he had no intention whatsoever of leaving without Harry.

He carefully looked over to where his father stood, and saw that Harry had indeed gained his full attention. He clamored to his feet gracelessly and searched about for a weapon, before finding one nearby. It was a large stone, and he hefted it without a thought, his muscles screaming from their abuse from the curse. He passed out of Harry's sleeping cubby and circled behind his father, creeping up to him carefully. He was terrified of rushing, fearing that the swift and decidedly clumsy movements would attract his father's attention, but knew that Harry could only buy him so much time, and needed to make the most of it. He was very near the blond head by the time he felt something once again stir within him, easing the pain of the curse. His lips quirked into a victorious grin and he raised the stone above his head.

Time seemed to click by with infuriating slowness as he eased himself into the perfect position to strike. Harry's eyes were closed, seemingly to show his love for Raiden's psychopathic father. Raiden wanted to gag at the lengths Harry was willing to go to let him have a chance to run away and save himself.

But Harry didn't realize that Raiden was made of tougher stuff, and would not ever flee and leave someone else to suffer in his place, especially knowing that his escape would only enrage his insane father more, and in his anger would most likely torment his remaining captive all the worse. Raiden would fight. He would rescue his new friend. He would kill his father.

The words, once formed solidly in his mind, sent a chill through Raiden's bones.

Harry's eyes flickered open.

Raiden brought the stone downward in a violent arc toward his father's skull.


	16. The Truth

Draco fell to his knees with a growl as a second wave of pain washed over him. The trio of spells had been triggered again, and had left him gasping. The Cruciatus curse was being used again, and his power was being drawn upon to heal the effects. Harry must be in the company of a madman. A very cruel madman.

He hadn't realized he'd fallen against the doorbell until Hermione opened it with a decidedly miffed air. "What on earth is so pressing? You could have just…" She froze as she recognized the collapsed man, and yelled for Ron.

"What's happened, Draco? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Draco shook his head and struggled to stand. Ron appeared, concern written across his features, to help heave Draco to his feet. "What's wrong, mate?"

Then the effect was gone, and Draco shook off the confusion of his spells. He met Ron's eyes and Ron was taken aback by the sorrow he saw evident there.

"What's happened? Is it Raiden?" Ron questioned, and Draco shook his head.

"It's…" Draco froze as something clicked in his memory. "Gather the major Order members. We have a… problem. Meet me here." Draco slipped Ron a paper on which was the coordinates of the cave.

"What's going on?" Hermione insisted, snatching the paper from Ron to examine it. "This is Hollow Crest. What will we find when we get there? How many should we bring?"

"The ones who… the ones who were there," he replied, his eyes cutting away. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder as she sensed his reluctance. He never liked to mention that day, the day the Order was tortured and he was forced to perform false killings. The day he lost Harry's love, the day which began a two-year exile during which he could not go into the public eye, during which he had had to keep him and his son in hiding.

"We'll be there. What should we expect?"

"Hopefully nothing more than to be confirmation. I hope to take care of the problem for the most part. But I need you guys there. To… to be proof. He's there," he motioned toward the slip of paper. "We need to bring him home."

"Who?" Ron insisted.

Draco smiled as he was able to tell the truth and not burst into flames. "Raiden," he responded, and then was gone. 


	17. And The Ability

Harry's eyes opened to see Raiden's shuddering form poised behind Draco, and fought to keep his gaze from flickering from Draco's. He turned his cheek into the hand presented to him, pretending to be caught in the temptation Draco thought he was presenting. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Please, my love," he murmured, and for once was able to lie, with his actions. He wanted nothing more than to pull away from that hand, that hand which was stained with the blood of Harry's loved ones, the blood which was stained with the pain of Draco's own son.

"You're good," Draco whispered, and Harry's eyes flew open to meet the cold gaze before him as the hand slid from his cheek to clamp around his throat. "But not that good," he finished, and spun around, his wand drawn, to send Raiden spiraling across the room.

Harry gasped as Draco's fingers clenched tightly, and clawed at the hand to gain release. Raiden's startled eyes met and clashed with his father's, those eyes which were so much like his own.

"Please, Father, stop!" Raiden shrieked, and leapt to his feet. Draco drew his hand forward quickly, slamming Harry's face into the impure glass, and released his gasping prey. He faced Raiden, then, and turned the power of his wand upon the shivering boy.

"You insolent fool!" he howled, his entire body shuddering with fury. "How dare you try to lift a hand to your father!"

"You're mad, Father! Please, come to your senses!"

"You little brat! I knew I never should have let you get away that night! I knew I should have carried out my threat! You'd make such a good little bed warmer. Your…"

"What are you talking about?" Raiden hissed, and as Draco stepped ever closer to him he backed away, until he could no longer retreat. Draco grasped him about the back of the neck and forced the youth's head back, forcing his lips against Raiden's. Raiden was too startled to move for a long moment while he felt his father's lips claim his, until suddenly his senses returned to him and he shoved Draco hard. The elder Malfoy scarcely stumbled, merely taking a step back and using Raiden's resultant loss of balance to his own advantage. He jerked Raiden forward, slamming the youth against the floor and using his weight to pin him down.

"No, Father, please! What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? I'm your son! Please, Father!"

Draco once again crushed Raiden's lips with his own, growling into Raiden's mouth. Raiden bucked and jerked at his wrists, but to no avail. He could feel his father's intentions, hear the insanity and desperation in his father's broken voice.

"I've been waiting for so long to be able to get my hands on you, boy," Draco growled, and Raiden felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. His father's strength was simply too much, besides being coupled with fury which fueled him. Raiden sobbed against Draco's intruding tongue, snapping his teeth together on the intruding member.

Raiden cried out as Draco released his lips and bit down on Raiden's tender throat. He arched his shoulders off the floor but he was in no condition to lift his heavier father. The effort cost him his breath and he was gasping out sobs as he writhed beneath his father's attentions.

"Father, please! Don't you realize, it's me, Raiden. Let me go," he begged, and suddenly his father's eyes were hovering just above his. He looked deep into those familiar eyes and was startled when suddenly they were no longer the silver of his own. They darkened to black, then faded to green, to blue, and back again. When they stilled on one color, Draco recognized them immediately.

"I know who you are, brat," the elder hissed.

"Theo!" he shrieked, and slammed his forehead into Theodore Nott's nose. 


	18. To Kill

Draco appeared at the base of the incline, cursing his inability to apparate closer. The magic he'd come upon had sent his own spiraling out of control, and he had been forced to set himself down at the base of Hollow Crest. Yet he wasted no time in clamoring higher. He knew that the Order would be arriving soon, and knew that he should wait, to be sure that they would be able to calm Harry's suspicions, but had no patience for it. He needed to at least disable Harry's attacker long enough for the Order to appear, knew that if he waited, he may well be too late. So he climbed, for once in his life not caring that his fine clothes caught on bushes and brambles which tore hunks of the expensive cloth away. He ascended on hands and feet at times, his balance slipping from his grasp but unwilling to pause to regain it. He was halfway there when he heard the voices, heard his son's objections, heard his son crying. Never before had he considered that his son would be the victim, assuming at once that Harry would not allow anyone to injure the boy. So where was Harry, then? 

"Father, please! Don't you realize, it's me, Raiden. Let me go!" Raiden screamed, and Draco's blood ran cold. What was going on?

He redoubled his efforts to gain the top of the crest. His own panting drowned out the rest of the arguments above him as he struggled to propel himself up the cliff. Something was seriously wrong here, and Draco could find no explanation except one which made his heart ache.

Harry had turned on the boy.

* * *

Harry watched in horror as Raiden struggled with his father on the ground.

He could no longer hear the words the two were saying, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the Hagani Wall or the pounding of his own rage in his mind.

He was betting on the latter.

Did Draco truly intend to force himself onto his son? His son? Harry beat against the wall. He had to do something. Even if they survived, the effect of being… Harry shuddered just thinking the word… raped by his father would never leave Raiden. He would never be able to get over the experience.

Harry's rage swelled and pressed against his consciousness like a living thing. He let it reach out, tap into his powers, and thrash against his cage as a physical force. The walls of the spell shuddered under the assault of such raw magic and fury. Draco's eyes flew wide and he flung himself from atop Raiden, his hands flying from his zipper to point the wand at Harry. Yet the walls held, and Harry's power had to gather itself once more. He allowed Draco to relax minutely before slamming himself and his power against the glass. His fists acted as conductors for his fury, his magic swelling and coiling within the tight confines of the spell.

Draco fell to his knees as the walls dragged at his power to stay solid. He screamed aloud, his fear dancing blatantly across his features, just as the effect of the polyjuice potion slipped away. Harry glared into the calculating eyes of his true enemy, Theodore Nott, and once again allowed his fury to swell forth. The shock of having Draco so abruptly replaced in his mind as their own personal villain slid beneath the anger in the general tide of emotions. Not even that large shock could wash away its power.

For the third time his wrath slammed into the walls of the glass. As a last ditch effort to control the furious Harry Potter, Theodore spun his wand on the sobbing youth.

The effect was quite the opposite. Instead of calming under Theodore's experimental tug on the reins, Harry began to thrash all the more wildly. He knew that no help was coming, and he must act on the momentary weakness he had found in the spell about him. He had found a toe hold in the wall, and fully intended to use it to his advantage, before Theodore had a chance to break Raiden's will and soul.

Theo shuddered under the third and then fourth assault on the wall but his determination rivaled Harry's wrath. He redoubled his effort to center his wand on Raiden's heart, and his lips parted, gasped, then spoke.

"Avada kedavra!" he screamed.


	19. Or The Strength

Draco swung himself to the top of the next rise with a sense of terror clutching his insides. He did not want to have to fight off Harry. If Harry had turned, then there was no reasoning with him. Draco would be forced to attack him. And after that, even if Harry survived and was reconditioned to be able to survive in the wizarding world, he would not accept Draco as one of his own. He would continue to hate Draco.

Draco swore as he gained a bit more height. He was almost there, now, and could hear gut-wrenching sobs coming from directly above. He felt his breath catch, and cursed himself. His own fears and pain and worry could not interrupt his work. He had to get to the cave to rescue his son, even if he had to harm Harry to do it. He had been absent from his son's life for too long. In this, he would succeed.

But the sight that greeted him as he swung himself to the ledge on which the opening to the cave was knocked the breath out of him entirely. He had to steady himself against the cliff face to keep from falling over.

He saw himself screaming at Harry.

Draco had to blink three times before he could comprehend what was going on. The pain of seeing Harry's tortured face through the Hagani Wall was enough to stagger him all on its own, but then, to see himself as the villain…

It brought all of his old fears back to life.

It took him a moment to understand how it was possible, but then the potion wore off and Theodore Nott was standing in his place. Slowly it started to make sense.

At the same time Draco was able to understand why his powers had been thrown into tumult when he had neared the cave.

Harry Potter was attempting the impossible. He was trying to use sheer power to break down the walls of a hagani spell. The amount of power Harry was throwing at the walls was incredible, and was enough to send every magical item within a dozen yards into absolute chaos. Not to mention the extra mile where things would certainly be behaving oddly.

Once Draco could understand the basics of the situation, he could finally act. He would not have to hurt Harry after all. His eyes searched desperately for his son, wanting to be sure that Raiden was not going to be caught in the crossfire. Finally he followed the path of Theo's wand, and saw with terror his son, curled into himself and in tears, against the far wall.

It was only when he saw the boy did he realize Theodore's intentions. In an instant his hands were clutching at his wand, raising it above his head and flicking it in just such a manner as to disarm Theo. Yet as he prepared to send the spell outward, the strongest and absolutely the most violent wash of power he had ever experienced washed over him, staggering him back a step. He teetered on the edge of the cliff, watching in horror as Theo's mouth formed the word "Avada…"

Then the wash of power was pressing into Theo, just as Draco's whispered "expelliarmus" struck him, and as Theo completed the spell, the jet of green light went wild. The wand seemed as though it had a mind and legs of its own as it twisted madly about in Theo's grasp, affected by both the spell to disarm and the raw power which made it uncontrollable, and the green jet struck the wall behind Harry's cubby and exploded, causing the walls of the cavern to tremble.

Draco desperately wind-milled his arms, striving to regain his footing as the glass walls of the hagani spell shattered and flew outward. Just as he was setting himself upright, he had to duck to avoid the flying glass, and noticed with a wince that Theo had not been able to avoid the debris. A large shard had imbedded itself into his abdomen, and his hands were slick with his own blood yet trying desperately to pull it out.

Draco slipped into the cave just as Harry fell onto his side, chest heaving. He scurried over to where Harry lay, eyes closed in pain and exhaustion. The amount of power Harry had just dispelled could well kill him.

Draco knew that he could not do much for Harry at the moment, and instead rushed to Raiden's side. He gripped his son's shoulder firmly, eyes full of sorrow and fear of rejection, and whispered the boy's name. The silence which rang through the cave just after the explosion made his voice sound like a cannon, and Raiden jolted away. "No!" he gasped, and then his eyes fell on Draco's.

"Raiden, please," Draco whispered, and reached a hand out to Raiden.

The boy glared at it distrustfully for a moment, before his eyes darted over to rest on Theo's prone form. "It wasn't you," he whispered, and Draco's heart broke.

"No, son. I would never…"

"But you did!" Raiden shrieked, and slapped Draco's hand away. "You killed all of Harry's people! You betrayed him!"

"No!" Draco gasped, and his eyes were threatening to spill over. "You have to believe me, I never did what Harry thought I did. That's something I'm going to have to convince him of, too, but I have very strong evidence. Hermione Granger is now Hermione Weasly, and she and Ron have a beautiful baby girl together. Her birthday was recently. Her name is Shelly."

Draco's voice broke and he reached out again, his hands begging his son for understanding. "Please, Raiden, they're going to be arriving soon, you have to believe me. I have to… I have to get you out of here. Please, please believe me when I say that I never intended for any of this to happen…"

Suddenly Harry let out a strangled scream. Draco reached for his wand, images of Theo's bloody hands strangling Harry dancing in his mind, only to find Harry halfway on his feet and his eyes solely for Draco. Draco closed his hand around his wand and opened his mouth to speak, only for his voice to fail him completely. He made a sound akin to a croak and snapped his mouth shut.

"Why?" Harry rasped, and gathered his other knee beneath himself. He struggled to keep his balance, and in the end it was only sheer determination which kept him upright. It was only when Draco saw the wand clutched in his other bleeding fist that he became truly afraid. His very life was balanced on the tip of that wand, and Harry had the power to end it in an instant.

"Why!" Harry demanded again, and began to raise the wand. "I know you're really you this time, Malfoy. Am I right?"

Draco couldn't believe that his voice chose that instant to work. "Yes," he rasped, and winced. "Please, H…"

"Do. Not. Speak. This is not the time for begging, Draco. You didn't listen when they begged for their lives, why should I listen when you do?"

"Harry, this isn't you," Draco managed, and his hands tightened reflexively on his wand. "Listen to yourself. Please, hear me out…"

"NO!" Harry bellowed, and the effort almost cost him his balance. He pushed his way to his feet, and took one deliberate step toward Draco. "Stand, Malfoy."

Draco felt his hands shaking. "Harry, please, if you'll only…"

"Stand!"

Draco carefully moved to his feet. "Harry, they're alive," he gasped out, and knew that his words meant nothing. Harry had seen them die, and had no reason to suspect anything else had happened.

"Malfoy, I'm warning you," he bit out, his eyes flickering rage.

"Harry, they're on their way," he insisted, and Harry barked a laugh.

"I don't doubt your little friends are on the way to save you," he accused, and took another careful step. "Avada." 


	20. To Let Live

The word was spoken almost like a challenge. Draco knew that Harry was giving him plenty of time to draw his own wand, to defend himself and kill Harry. But Draco had other ideas. 

Slowly he pulled his wand from his pocket, letting Harry see how easily accessible it was, before flicking it away from himself. It landed with a clatter several feet away, too far for him to retrieve under any circumstances.

"I know this isn't you, Harry Potter. You will not kill a weaponless opponent. You will not kill a man who does not give you an active reason to. You will not take the life of a man without knowing for certain that the crimes you place against him are true. You cannot know what happened for certain that day," he ended, and raised his hands out to his sides, a stance of surrender. "I did not kill the people you think I did. They are on their way now to 'save the day'. If you…"

"Shut up!" he screamed, and repeated the first word of the spell. "Avada…"

Then suddenly his path was blocked quite effectively by the younger Malfoy.

"No, Harry!" Raiden screamed. "I know you have every reason to want him dead, but this is not the way to have him punished! You are not a murderer! You can still walk out of here with your conscience clean. Do not become him! Do not become what you hate most!"

Draco winced at the implication that he was what Harry hated most, and felt the distaste that both men had for him like salt on his wounded soul. But he could not let his son stand in the way of his judgment.

"Raiden, step aside," both Harry and Draco commanded, and their eyes met and clashed.

"This is not your fight," Harry insisted, when Raiden made no move to relent.

"No, but you are the most important thing in the world to me, Harry, and I cannot just stand aside and let you take a man's life!"

Draco felt the words like a bullet. His hands tensed reflexively. His own son well and truly hated him. Maybe he did deserve to die.

Draco clutched a hand into the back of Raiden's clothes and jerked him backward. "Don't," he commanded, and met Harry's eyes again. "Harry, if you so desire, then kill me now. But it will not make the nightmares go away."

Harry tensed. "How did you…"

"I'm your secret-keeper, remember? I can always find you. Your life force is like a drum sounding in the back of my skull. For the last several months I have been looking in on you hoping to keep you alive long enough for the Order to find you. Dumbledore is looking for you. He has a few…"

"Dumbledore is dead," Harry spat. "You killed him."

Draco shook his head. "Think, Harry. Didn't the townspeople…"

Harry's eyes widened suddenly, and he fell to his knees. Draco was halfway across the cave before the wand was trained on him again. "Stay away!" Harry rasped. Raiden skirted past his father to kneel at Harry's side.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"No, he's not," Draco growled. "He needs medical attention. How he is even breathing at the moment is far beyond me. The blast of power to break the walls of the hagani spell was enough to kill him. I don't know why it didn't."

Raiden wrapped his arms about Harry's shaking shoulders. "Come, Harry, let's get you to a healer. You need to rest. Killing him will likely kill you, too. Leave him for the law."

Harry met Draco's eyes. "The townspeople said that Dumbledore told the truth of what happened that day," he whispered, and shook his head.

Draco nodded. "He did."

"I didn't even… realize… there was too much going on."

Draco took a cautious step forward. "Harry, listen, Hermione and Ron and the others…"

Harry's eyes fluttered closed before he forced them open. "But I saw…"

Draco wanted to scream, but merely growled instead. He closed the distance between himself and Harry, not feeling particularly threatened by the wavering wand, and reached to lift Harry up. In a flash, Raiden snatched Harry's wand from his loosened grasp, and trained it on Draco with fury in his eyes. Draco froze halfway through bending over, and eyed his son incredulously.

"Hurt him," Raiden hissed. "And I will kill you."

Draco's tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "I wouldn't hurt him," he responded, and Harry made a soft grunt of protest. "Please, Raiden, we have to get him some help."

Raiden nodded, but didn't move the wand from Draco's heart. He allowed Draco to lift Harry into his arms, though Harry made feeble grunts and tried to slap at Draco.

"Please, Harry, I can't carry you the whole way there," Raiden protested, and was amazed by the tenderness with which his father cradled Harry. Draco carefully shifted until Harry's head was propped against his shoulder, then tucked his arm securely beneath Harry's knees. It was certainly not the easiest way to carry an adult male, but considering that Harry had lost entirely too much weight and it was the most comfortable for Harry, Draco did not hesitate to comply.

Draco tossed a last glance over at Theo, who had, sometime during the course of their argument, stopped moving. Had his son not been present he would have been sure to spit on the corpse.

And before he could take a step, Raiden did just that.

Draco wanted to laugh and clap his son on the shoulder, but didn't for several reasons.

Not the least of which being the sudden apparation of several Order members.


	21. Rediscovering The Past

I can never thank you guys enough! Every review that I get makes me smile like crazy all day! I'm an absolute feind now. I'm addicted. I'll probably have to write other stories here because this one is probably almost over, I intended to have it completed by Monday so I wouldn't have to worry about not having time around school, so we'll see what happens there.

* * *

The moment they appeared Draco turned fully to face them, a look of mingled fury and pride gracing his handsome features.

"What seems to be the…" Dumbledore began diplomatically, but was interrupted by a shrill shriek from Hermione, who threw herself forward at Draco.

"Harry!" she gasped, and in an instant each of the Order members were swarming the cave, eager for a glimpse at the man cradled protectively in Draco's arms.

Harry's eyes flickered open to stare blankly at the Order, but in moments he lost consciousness once again.

"We have to get him some help," Raiden burst out, eyes frantic. "He… the hagani spell… please, help him!" he begged.

A few of the Order members broke away from ogling Harry to investigate the cave, and one, a particularly shabby looking fellow, strode over to tug Raiden away. "Come, come, son, we've got some of the most powerful wizards in the world right here in this cave, don't worry a bit about Harry, he'll be fine. Draco certainly won't let anything untoward happen to him."

"But…"

"I do hope that you don't think Draco did whatever Harry claims he did, do you? No, of course you don't, Draco's your father, you know him better than that. Harry simply vanished from our world before he was able to find out the truth. That rather striking brunette, there, you see her?" Raiden nodded numbly. "That's Hermione Granger, now Hermione Weasly. She and Ron, the tall redhead…" the man waited until Raiden nodded his recognition. "Are married and have a young daughter together. That old guy with the beard, see him?" Again, Raiden nodded, watching anxiously as they performed a series of spells on Harry's limp form, which Draco had reverently set upon the cavern floor. "That's Albus Dumbledore, who Draco was also supposed to have killed. Not to mention me, Remus Lupin, who…"

"You're Lupin?" Raiden interrupted quickly, and the man smiled, nodding.

"Harry… I heard your name before."

"I'll bet Harry had quite a hard time of it, here," he murmured, and Raiden was too overwhelmed to respond.

Lupin fell silent for a long moment before draping an arm around Raiden's shoulder and tugging him closer to the bustling witches and wizards. "You're going to come out of your skin before long if you can't be sure he's safe," Lupin observed genially, and allowed Raiden to kneel beside Harry to watch the specific spells.

"Father," Raiden murmured, and Draco's head came up abruptly. "Is it true? What… what they're saying?"

Another Order member came up to him with a smile. "Certainly, young one. We are the Lost Order, as those who know the story like to call us. We're the ones who Draco Malfoy saved by pretending to murder. If he hadn't done what he did, each and every one of us would be dead, not to mention the rest of the wizarding world being in absolute chaos. Your father is a hero, Raiden Malfoy."

"None of that matters if Harry dies," Draco growled, and the others turned secretive glances on each other. The likelihood of Harry dying at this point was slim, and they all knew it. Draco simply didn't like to be called a hero for what happened.

"Draco, I think your work here is done. Perhaps you would like to have a word alone with your son?" Dumbledore's voice was gentle, but Draco could hear the command in it. His eyes darted to his son's to seek permission, but Raiden turned to stare at Harry.

"I don't want to leave him," Raiden protested, and Lupin squeezed his shoulder, motioning Raiden to follow him. Docilely Raiden complied.

"There is very little that can be done for Harry except to make him comfortable. He will have to regain his strength on his own. At the moment he is not wounded, merely exhausted." Lupin tossed a glance at Draco, who was pretending to listen to what Dumbledore was telling him. "But I think that your father is wounded." Raiden's eyes flew to examine for any wounds on his person. "No, no," Lupin corrected, drawing Raiden's gaze away. "I mean that he desperately wants for you to listen to him at the moment. Your father loves you very much, Raiden, and that is why he did what he did. I will leave it up for him to explain, for that is not my place, but I think, for now, you should give your father an audience."

Raiden's eyes darted from Lupin's to gaze at Harry, then at his father. He nodded slightly, and Lupin clapped him on the shoulder again. "Good man."

Raiden made his way back to his father's side, eyes on Harry. "Father?" he questioned softly, and instantly Draco's eyes met his. "I would like to have a word," Raiden murmured, and Draco's entire face lit with relief.

"Of course," he breathed, and slid gracefully to his feet. Raiden led the way out of the cave, slithering down the cliff a few yards before turning to face the elder Malfoy.

And suddenly the words which Draco had been rehearsing for nine years fled his memory. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, to no avail.

"Tell me about that day," Raiden demanded, and Draco seemed relieved to have a specific topic to begin with. He shifted his feet before plopping himself down upon a rock.

"To tell you about that day," he explained as Raiden followed suit. "I have to tell you about a day several years before that. When you were seven years old."

Raiden turned away, willing his eyes not to betray his pain.

"Raiden, please, look at me," Draco supplicated softly, and waited until his son's eyes were on him before he continued. "My father was a very cruel man. He…"

"From what I hear of it," Raiden began scathingly. "You…"

"Please!" the elder gasped, and only then did Raiden notice that his father's hands were clutching each other so tightly his fingers were starting to turn purple. "Please, just… just listen to me, Raiden. I know that after all I've done to you I certainly don't deserve it but you deserve to hear an explanation."

"An excuse," Raiden corrected coldly.

Draco's chest seemed to cave in on itself as he choked on air. "Please, Raiden, please hear me out."

Never before had Raiden seen his father beg for anything, until that day. He had begged for Harry's audience just as he now begged for Raiden's. And he had turned out to be right about the matter Harry had accused him of.

Did that mean, Raiden wondered, that he was also innocent of the crimes Raiden himself leveled against him?

"Fine," Raiden gritted, and was rewarded with a look of such gratitude that he could hardly breathe for a long moment.

"Thank you," Draco sighed, and then shook himself. "A… as for my father. He was…very cruel, he…" Draco wanted to scream in frustration when his words refused to come out correctly. He took a long breath, closed his eyes, and began again. "He was an evil man, bent on taking over the wizarding world, but he was no Voldemort. He was not nearly so strong. He was a fool to believe he could do anything lasting." Draco's eyes popped open. "But he was determined to try. He started gathering an army soon after the fall of Voldemort, and by the time you were seven, was eager to involve his only son in the plan. He…"

Raiden opened his mouth to interject but the look of fear on his father's face shut him up. He nodded and snapped his mouth closed.

"He came to me one night after you had fallen asleep. You were sleeping in my arms while I worked in the study. He first saw it necessary to point out that you were far too old to be coddled so gently. He insisted that I send you away, and when I refused, he got angry. He told me of his plans, of the army he was gathering, and insisted I take part in the plans. When I refused him again, he got even more furious."

Draco paused for a long moment, seeming to be lost in the memory. Raiden made no move to hurry him.

"He threatened to kill you," Draco admitted softly, and Raiden's wide eyes suddenly looked deep into his father's silver orbs. The pain that he saw reflected there took his breath away.

* * *

I'm sorry about the cliffies, I had a weird affliction where I could not figure out ANY OTHER WAY to end the chapters, and these three just KEPT getting into trouble! I'm sorry if the 'oh now I'm going to try to kill YOU, then you'll try to kill ME' and so on and so forth thing got old, I couldn't keep them from attacking each other, everyone thought that they were the only one who was right:-P Stubborn men! But we're not through with the evilness yet, I'll ask you guys a favor, on a scale of one to ten, ten being VERY evil,how evil do you want me to be to Raiden? I shall say no more on the matter, but please give me a number in your next review.

Also, Dead-Luthien: Sorry that I forgot to mention this before, but the reason Draco has no reason to fear the Death Eaters' revenge is that a)Dumbledore didn't tell that Draco was one of his (everyone who knew was imprisoned, or Dumbledore kept them quiet), and b) Nott and the other of Draco's 'associates'like him aren't Death Eaters. I'm sorry that this is a little confusing I know the logic is a little lacking, but hopefully this helps clear up the basics. Feel free to mentionif you find any more holes!

Thank you all again!


	22. Through The Lies Of The Fallen

Thank you all for your votes! The consensus was, I shouldn't be too mean to Raiden, so I'll behave myself. (pout) You guys never let me have any fun. ;-) So this is what your votes got you... enjoy!

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"He told me that since you were obviously the only thing I cared about then only by losing you would I become the son I used to be, the son he wanted me to be. Before your birth I was… not the same man that you knew for seven years. I hardly ever had any reason to smile, and never an occasion to laugh. Your…" he paused to clear his throat deliberately. "Your mother was the first person who ever made me smile. But that is neither here nor there."

Raiden couldn't resist the temptation. That was the most his father had ever spoken of his mother. "Who was she?" He burst out, and regretted it the moment he had. Draco's eyes flickered to the cave, which now seemed so far away, and he sighed.

"That is a story for another time, Raiden," he murmured. "It's a rather…"

"I understand," Raiden interrupted gently, wishing he could take away the pain that he had glimpsed in his father's eyes.

Again that gratitude swept across Draco's features. "Thank you," he whispered.

"So he thought that by killing me he would gain your loyalty?"

Draco nodded, eyeing Raiden carefully. "He was a man fueled by a logic that was by no means part of this world. He was not a sane person. He didn't realize that if he'd have killed you I would not have rested until I had taken or ruined his life completely. I made that fact perfectly clear to him." Draco paused for a moment. "But even so, I was not willing to risk your life to push him away. He was a very hard man. Nobody crossed him without paying dearly. I knew that there was no way I could live with myself if by forsaking my father's teachings I had cost you your life. So I did what he said, I treated you like he wanted me to treat you and I participated in his plans. He made me his second in command, and when the time came to strike, he set me to the task of torturing the Order members. But somewhere down the line the orders got mixed up and I was away on other business when the raid went down, so I communicated by owl telling him not to kill them yet, to let me kill them all. I made up some bullshit story about making sure Harry suffered as much as possible before we killed him, too. My father bought it. My plan…" Draco's voice fell away and he had to try three times to regain it. "My plan succeeded, but in return the Order members were tortured for that much longer before I could floo in. I'm amazed that so many of them survived intact. I'm not… I'm not a hero, Raiden. I caused good people to be tortured more than was necessary."

Raiden's heart went out to his father. "And you gave them their lives in return. They call you their hero, Father. They love you for what you did."

Draco covered his face with his hand. "But how can I…" It was a long moment before Draco moved, his fingers pressing into his eyes to keep himself in control.

Finally Draco's hand fell away and he met his son's eyes, tears shining brilliantly from those silver orbs. "How can I gain forgiveness from the one who means the most to me? For so long I had to pretend to be the man my father wanted me to be. When I was under his control I had to push you away. And then, after… afterward you… wanted nothing to do with me. I knew that you blamed me for neglecting you, and I know that it was my fault, if only I had stood up to him, if only I had been stronger, for you. My son. If only I had been stronger, then I could have been the father you needed me to be. And you... you wouldn't hate me so much."

Raiden's stony countenance melted. He felt his own tears begin to burn his eyes, but held himself in check. He knew that his father regretted being so cold, but did he regret that he never hugged him after he was seven? "Father, I don't... I don't hate you. I could never hate you. You're my father. I just... wanted you to notice me."

Raiden swept a tear away and suddenly found himself enveloped quite firmly within his father's arms. After the initial shock, during which he couldn't breathe much less move, and just when Draco had taken his lack of response as further rejection, Raiden returned the embrace with all the longing of nine years of neglect.

Neither Malfoy was entirely sure how long they sat there, but then, neither Malfoy cared. Tears flowed freely down the cheeks of both men, and neither one was embarrassed by the other's affection.

"Draco? We are prepared to depart," a somber voice informed him from above, and the pair slowly pulled back. "Someone here has something to explain to you," Lupin finished, and Draco narrowed his eyes. "Theodore Nott insisted that you grant him an audience." Surprise registered on Draco's face. He would have sworn Theo was dead. "If you wish to do so, he does not have much time. I am sorry to say that none of us is at the moment of a mind to heal his wounds. So sad that we're all so busy, isn't it?"

Draco snorted. "He has no information for me that I need."

"Mentioned something about his birthday party," Lupin declared, and turned to leave.

Draco tensed. "His what?" he asked, but Lupin had already wandered back into the cave.

Draco tossed a glance at Raiden, who had his head down, before starting up the incline. "I'll just be a moment, son," Draco assured him, and vanished into the depths of the cave. Raiden followed slowly.

Draco made his way over to Theo with a sneer on his handsome face. "So you followed me here at one point and decided to mess with your old enemy, is that right?"

Theo gurgled indistinctly for a moment before he coughed and spit blood. His lips somehow managed to form into a smirk, and he eyed Draco for a long moment before speaking.

"All… this time… I never kn…knew you…" Theo stopped to spit more blood, and managed a laugh. "…were a f…fucking… fagot. I th… thought your son… would have been… unspoiled… when I took him. But… now I know… I should have… taken him… when I had… the chance. When he was… twelve."

Draco's fury leapt and blazed in his eyes. "You're so off base on that that you're not even on the fucking planet. What is this drivel?"

"Potter… confessed his… love for you. Your son… b… b… begged me… to f… f… fuck him. Of course, I… could not… deny him."


	23. And The Truth Of The Savior

In a flash Draco had drawn his wand and made several violent slashing motions, much like the cuts of a dagger. Theo screamed aloud as blood began to pour from his newly split flesh, and Draco abandoned the wand for a more hand-to-hand assault, standing abruptly and kicking the dying man brutally in the chest and head. Within moments, Theo's life had ended. Lupin pulled Draco away from the corpse when he seemed intent on continuing the damage he wanted so desperately to wreak on the man he so detested.

"Raiden!" Draco bellowed, spinning away when it became apparent that he would not win against the elder wizard. "Raiden, did he… did he… touch you?"

Raiden seemed to withdraw into himself. "No! No, Father!" he exploded, seemingly disgusted by the fact that his father would ask such a thing, but that wasn't good enough. Draco stalked toward him, his fear for his son masked by the fury in his eyes.

"Raiden Malfoy, tell me that man never laid a hand on you."

Raiden took a terrified step back. "Of course not! He never… not like that!"

Draco was upon him, hands clutching at the sides of his face as he searched his son's honest eyes for signs of a lie that, if found, Draco would not know how to handle. Raiden's eyes searched desperately for signs of help, but each of the Order members strategically avoided his gaze.

"What do you mean 'not like that'?" Draco demanded, and Raiden paled.

"Father, please. Is this…"

"Raiden, please, just tell me he didn't hurt you, at all, ever. Please, tell me the truth."

Raiden dropped his gaze. "I can't do both, Father. Which do you want?"

Draco's face dissolved and he gripped Raiden's shoulders tightly. "What did he do to you, Raiden?"

"Please, Father, not…"

"Raiden, please. Tell me he didn't…"

He couldn't say the words. He couldn't. Because to say them would make them a possibility, and he would not stand for that.

"He didn't fuck me, and I didn't ask him to, if that's what you're asking!" Raiden snapped out scathingly, and the relief in his father's eyes made him regret his harsh tone. His father was only concerned, he realized, and unsure of how to act on that concern. He was terrified that his son had been defiled. Raiden could understand that.

Draco sighed. "I never thought that you would, Raiden, but I know how cruel a man Theodore has the potential to be. Lack of cooperation would not stay his hand. But you still haven't answered me," he pointed out patiently, seemingly too relieved to hold onto his fury. "What did he do to you, if not that?"

Draco could see the pain in Raiden's eyes and wondered if he could reasonably bring Theodore Nott back to life to kill him again, and slowly. The man had died far too quickly for Draco's taste.

Draco surrounded his son's shaking shoulders with his arms, allowing the youth to bury his face in his shoulder. He let his son's tears flow freely, not caring that the most powerful wizards he knew were standing behind him, gauging his every move.

"Raiden, tell me. Please. You can trust me."

"He didn't do… what you think. I would have told you. He just… He conjured a whip," Raiden began softly, wanting to writhe under the heat of the many gazes he could feel on him. "He whipped me for some time. Then… he sent me away. He told me that if I didn't run along to bed, he would make me share his with him. But he didn't. I ran away. And I…"

"When?" Draco demanded, horrified. His son had been assaulted, and under his roof.

"For his birthday party. When I was… eleven."

Draco clutched his son more tightly.

"When you were away, for those two weeks. You left me under his care. I…"

Draco bit the back of his own hand to keep from screaming aloud. This was his fault. Not only had his son endured nine years of neglect, but now this! To be whipped in his own home, by a man who was supposed to protect him!

The hand-biting didn't work. He growled, burying his face in his son's shoulder to try to keep himself silent.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed, and Raiden's grip tightened.

"It's not your fault, Father. I shouldn't have…"

"No!" Draco gasped, and pulled away quickly to look into Raiden's eyes. "You are not at fault, Raiden, you were… just a boy. I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to be your father. I was supposed to be there for you. But I failed, and you had to pay for my shortcomings."

Raiden rested his head against his father's shoulder. "It's not too late to be my father," Raiden assured him. "That is all behind me. I fear not the intentions of dead men."

"Merlin, Raiden, I cannot convey how relieved I am to hear that from you. You are an incredibly forgiving boy. I only hope that I can prove to you that I deserve it."

Raiden's eyes fell on the corpse of his tormentor. "You have already begun," he murmured, and rested his forehead against his father's shoulder.

Suddenly one of the Order members let out a whoop that claimed everyone's attention. Draco pulled himself away from his son only after Raiden seemed just as eager as the others to change the subject from his own past.

"He's awake again," the woman exclaimed happily, and everyone gathered around Harry to peer at him. Slowly those emerald eyes of his slid into focus, and he blinked up at them in confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked drowsily, his strength severely drained. He wanted desperately to reach for his wand but his blasted hands refused to move. "What… what's happened?" his voice was breathy and each word was gasped on a sigh.

Dumbledore made his way closer, waiting until Harry's eyes slid into focus on him before speaking. "Harry, you've just expended a massive amount of energy attempting to break out of a hagani spell. While the effort succeeded and you achieved your goal, you are extremely weak."

"I… can tell," Harry rasped, and a few of the Order members snickered. "But… you're…" Suddenly those eyes flew wide. "I'm dead!" Harry decided, his breath hitching and his heart beginning to race. "I'm dead… aren't I! I've died, and… all of you…"

"No, Harry, none of us are dead. Please, just rest, everything will be explained in due time."

Harry narrowed his eyes, distrust and anger dancing in his eyes, but the exhaustion which was prevalent kind of ruined the effect. "It's been… five years. I think… that explanations… are due."

Dumbledore smiled that knowing smile and nodded. "I agree, Harry, but don't you think that maybe you should rest?"

"I want… some answers. Where… have you… been?"

Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly. "I think that the question is, where have you been? I've been searching for you for years, boy. We tried to contact you countless times, but you were always on the move, and our owls always came back with the letters still intact. Since you were still under the protection of your Secret-Keeper, the owls were quite confused…"

"How was I… still… protected? M… Malfoy… forfeited the title."

Several gazes flickered to eye Draco for his reaction, but he shook his head. It was not time for his introduction. His presence would only serve to upset the other.

"Harry," Drumbledore chided. "You should know by now that Draco never betrayed you. The fact that you were captured was just pure rotten luck. There is no way for him to have gotten around the spell. There was no way he wanted to. Harry, Draco was on our side the whole time."

"But…" Harry interrupted, but Dumbledore ignored him.

"He saved all of our lives by pretending to kill us that day, Harry."

"But I…"

Again Dumbledore spoke over his objection. "We all had to go into hiding until the ministry could uproot every last one of the Death Eaters there when Draco performed his feat. The ministry kept his participation under wraps, so that nobody in the free world even knew he was there. He could not come out and proclaim himself an active Order member before you were back. Too many distrusted him."

"With reason!" Harry insisted.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him, and there was an edge to his voice that none present had ever heard directed at the raven haired one. "Draco Malfoy does not deserve your scorn. He is the man you always tried to convince us he was. He was your loyal servant. Still is, to this day."

"I haven't… seen him in… five years. How can… you say… he is mine?"

Dumbledore looked to Draco for his opinion, and Draco shook his head again. It was still not time. Harry would still react with distrust.

But Dumbledore had never been one to take orders.

"He saved your life today, Harry. Don't you remember? If he had not come, you probably would have died trying to get Raiden to safety."

Harry's eyes slid out of focus for a long moment. "I cannot…" he began, and shook his head, his eyes clearing. "I cannot… remember… what was a dream… and what was… reality."

"Theodore Nott attacked you, Harry."

"So that… was real." The words were half question, half statement, but Dumbledore ignored the latter.

"Yes," he agreed, and waited, placing a hand against Harry's shoulder to keep him from doing what he knew was inevitable.

And, sure enough, he was suddenly straining against Dumbledore's hands, trying to sit up and search out his young charge. "Raiden!" he gasped, and Dumbledore hushed him, motioning Raiden over to join him. Raiden scrambled to comply, sliding to his knees beside Harry.

"Hush, Harry, I'm here. Calm down, I'm alright. Nothing happened."

Tears blurred Harry's vision. "I could not…"

"Harry, calm yourself. I am safe. Your plan worked. Theodore is dead."

"Raiden, child. I was… so worried. I could not… make him stop."

Raiden placed a hand on Harry's brow. "You did, Harry. You broke the Hagani Wall and one of the pieces hit him. He was unconscious for some time. He is dead now. You don't have to worry about him."

Harry relaxed only slightly. "I find it… hard to be… very trusting. I have… had… polyjuice potion… used against me… a few too… many… times."

The Order members nodded in understanding. "We are all prepared to wait around for a few hours without drinking anything if it would ease your fears. I understand that this is a lot to take in. We want you to be comfortable. But please, try to rest, now. We will prove ourselves to you after you rest some. We cannot have you awake for hours just yet. You are still too weak."

"I cannot… sleep… with so many people… around," he replied honestly, and Raiden patted his shoulder understandingly.

"You will have to be transferred to St. Mungo's so that you can be observed, Harry. Nobody has ever broken through a Hagani Wall with sheer power," Lupin reminded him gently.

"I cannot… sleep… with… anyone… near me."

"Then you will have to take some kind of potion, because we will not leave you here to be attacked again. We have lost you one too many times."

A small smile played over Harry's lips. "I do not… trust… your potions. I must… say that…"

But the strength he was using trying to speak was taking its toll. Harry's words were getting steadily more drowsy, and slowly his eyes were drooping closed.

And within moments Harry's eyes fluttered closed in sleep. 


	24. Feeds The Love

Sorry if you weren't pleased with my idea of a 'two', you guys. I figured that both Draco and Raiden deserved a break besides their bones or hearts. And thank each of you for the support you've lent me, it has all been greatly appreciated! Thank you April for loading this chapter when my computer decided to be a bleep and not load it. Everyone, it is only because of April that I can post this right now, so everyone give April a big hug!

07070707070707070707070707070707070707I'm a senior!0707070707070707070707070707070707

Harry awoke swathed in warmth and comfort. He had slept dreamlessly for the first time in years, and at first attributed it simply to the fact that he'd been so utterly exhausted that his mind had shut down, until he noticed the Dreamless Sleep drought next to his bed. Bed. He was in a bed. Of course. Lupin had made good on his threat to put him under the effect of potions. He was in the hospital.

At first his eyes seemed unfocused and gritty. He blinked several times, trying to clear his eyes, and when that didn't work, he brought his right arm up to wipe at the offending grit.

Or, tried to.

His arm seemed to be pinned under a great weight. He felt fear well in his throat. Had they restrained him? He jerked on his left wrist and found it free and easy to move. He scrubbed his eyes clean and finally found out why his right arm refused to move.

A certain Raiden Malfoy was draped across it.

Harry smiled down at the tousled blond hair and was hardly able to resist the urge to stroke the fluffy mane. He tried to speak, found his voice scratchy and raw, but forced it out anyway. "Wake up, Raiden," he rasped, and patted the youth's head. Raiden jolted awake as if burned, and when his eyes fell on the open eyes of Harry the most amazing smile flew across his features.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed unnecessarily, and clutched at Harry's hands. "I'm so glad. How do you feel? Do you feel alright? Does your head hurt? How about your stomach, do you feel nauseous? They said you might feel nauseous. They also said your eyes might feel dry, do you want some drops? They look red, maybe I should get the drops."

Harry laughed out loud as the blond's voice babbled on, until Raiden realized that he was rambling. "Sorry," he murmured.

Harry stroked his cheek. "Don't be, Raiden. Just try to slow down so I can answer one question at a time. I don't feel very swift at the moment. But otherwise I feel fine. Although my eyes are a little dry."

Raiden nodded and leaned into the hand on his cheek. He practically purred.

"I can get you some drops. You're sure you're alright?"

"Of course," he responded calmly.

Raiden jolted away suddenly. "Oh, yeah!" he exclaimed. He pressed a button beside Harry's head. "I was supposed to…" A loud beep invaded the room and the nurse's voice purred into the room sweetly.

"What can I help you with now, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I'm sorry to be such a bother," he murmured, and the nurse clucked.

"No, no bother at all, dear. What do you need?"

"I was supposed to inform Albus Dumbledore that Harry Potter has woken up."

The nurse let out a shrill trill of delight. "How wonderful! I'll inform him straightaway."

Moments later the door opened and the Order members spilled in, all looking eager and grinning wildly, their voices mingling and clashing until they sounded like a strangely harmonious cacophony. "Harry! Welcome back!" "Are you feeling alright, Harry?" "We're so glad you're awake, Harry!" "Do you need anything, Harry?"

Only three of the members were silent, and Harry zeroed in on those three.

They were sharing a secretive smile with each other, and Harry couldn't help but show his delight at their presence, despite being afraid of deception. He couldn't help but hope they were who they claimed.

And he didn't for a second think that there was no chance all of it was a dream.

"Harry," Dumbledore murmured, stepping closer, Ron and Hermione close behind him. "I know that you are still uncertain, but please, let me introduce someone very special to us all. Shelly Weasley. Hermione and Ron's daughter. Your goddaughter."

Harry's eyes were drawn to a petite young girl whose eyes and lips alone betrayed her eagerness to meet the man she'd heard so much about. Otherwise she was the picture of patience. She curtsied.

"Greetings, Harry Potter," she murmured demurely, hiding her eyes behind her lashes as she did so. Her parents had warned her not to appear too eager, lest she frighten the newly reunited Harry.

"My…" Harry seemed to choke on his words. "My goddaughter?"

Ron nodded. "We knew you'd find your way back to us one day," he responded coolly. "We wanted you to be a part of her life when you did."

Harry's eyes were suddenly blurred with tears, and he struggled upright, offering his hands to the girl. When she stumbled in her haste to approach, the tears slipped down, and he opened his arms instead. Seeming to be a ball of energy, she bounded onto the bed without hesitation, burying herself against his chest and giggling into his neck. He closed his arms about her reverently, seemingly afraid to break the precious child.

"How old is she?" Harry asked.

"Five. As of this week."

The tears redoubled. "You didn't lose the baby," he observed, and Hermione had tears in her eyes as well as she shook her head.

"Draco kept us safe," she told him

Harry tightened his hold on the girl, realizing that she wouldn't break, wouldn't flee, and he never wanted to let her go, never could hold her close enough, and in response she giggled harder and clutched at his shoulders in glee.

"Now," Dumbledore began. "I believe that each of us has to spend the next hour..? Or would you prefer two..? Without drinking anything at all. That way you can be sure. We do not want to press you too hard, Harry, and I understand your hesitance."

But Harry's heart was beating too loud to hear the declaration. He pressed his cheek into the silken hair on his goddaughter's head, and wept silent tears of contentment. This felt right. Finally, everything felt right. There was no need to prove that they were who they claimed. His heart knew that they were. And nothing else mattered.

"You're so beautiful," Harry whispered, and Shelley giggled again.

"You're a nice man, Mr. Potter," she responded, and cuddled closer. "My mommy and daddy say they love you very much. And that I will too one day. But I think that this is one day. I already like you a whole lot."

Harry chucked through the thickness in his throat. "I like you a whole lot, too," he replied, and placed a gentle kiss atop her nest of curls. "And you can call me Uncle Harry if you'd like," he told her, and waited anxiously for her answer, his eyes seeking out Ron and Hermione's for confirmation.

"Of course, mate," Ron grinned, and clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Shelly squeaked. "Uncy Harry. Like Uncy Dumby! I like my Uncy Dumby! He gave me a bag of lemon drops for my birfday!"

Harry chuckled and nodded his agreement for her jubilation. "That's very kind of him," he agreed, and tossed Dumbledore a smile. "I'm sorry I can't get you anything for your birthday," he continued, and Shelley giggled again, that intoxicatingly cute giggle.

"You gave me you!" she exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And so it was. Harry pressed a kiss to her grinning cheeks. "Well then, happy birthday, Shelley," he murmured, and she placed a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you!" she squealed.

Harry glanced guiltily around the room. "You guys… you don't all have to stay here. I don't want to keep you away from anything important. I'm sure you have better things to be…"

"Nonsense, Harry!" Lupin burst out, not letting the younger man complete his thought. "We're all so elated to finally see you again! We were all worried sick."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Thank you guys. I really…" his voice caught. "I really appreciate it."

The various members of the Order summoned chairs and the like to lounge in, and settled in for a long visit. They babbled to Harry happily and comfortably for well over an hour before Dumbledore cut in. "Well at least we all know we're us. It's been plenty of time."

"I kind of got that idea when you guys were willing to stick around despite my assurance that I believed you. And don't think that wasn't a test in itself," Harry chuckled.

The visitors joined in on his laughter, nodding their understanding. They knew that had they rushed out on Harry's word that he knew they were who they claimed, Harry would have had his doubts. But their easy speech and free manners had him convinced.

It was some time yet before a few of the Order members began to wander out, smiles on their faces and promises to return within the next few days spilling from their lips. The members were on cloud nine, their precious Potter returned to them safely. Yet a shadow of doubt crept into Harry's mind as the numbers slimmed to five: Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, Shelley, and, of course, Raiden.

If what they all said was the truth, then where was the heroic Draco Malfoy? Was he avoiding Harry's bedside for fear of reawakening the relationship they used to share? He was bound to know that Harry had connected the dots that were Raiden's age and Harry and Draco's history. To have had a sixteen year old son, Draco had to have hidden a relationship from Harry. A very, from the way Raiden suggested, serious relationship. And not only had he hid that relationship, thereby leading Harry on in the belief that they were in love, he had also hidden away the son that resulted from that relationship. Harry had been in acquaintance with Raiden's father since before Raiden had been born, and well after, yet never heard of the boy. Had Draco been ashamed of his male love? They had never been truly intimate, but would Draco feel the need to hide their love from this woman, Raiden's mother?

Harry suddenly had no doubt about it. Draco was ashamed of what they almost shared, their close bond, that was, Harry realized now, one-sided. Surely Draco had only feigned interest in Harry so as to not hurt the raven haired one. But why all the trouble? They had both made it quite clear that neither was 'gay' and that they had no interest in other guys. They agreed that their bond, their love, was so much more. They had no need for physical intimacy, besides caresses and kisses. So why had Draco bothered?

It wasn't until the door clicked closed that Harry snapped out of his reverie. He glanced out the window and saw Dumbledore and the happy trio passing by, and confusion swamped him.

"They said that you needed rest," a soft voice beside him spoke. He turned to Raiden's oh so honest eyes and smiled.

"I'm sorry, I completely spaced didn't I?"

Raiden nodded slightly, placing a hand against Harry's brow. "You're felling well?"

"Yes, yes of course, I just got lost on memory lane. Today was a rather shocking day. I don't know how to react yet."

Raiden offered him a hesitant smile. "I can understand that," he agreed, but something seemed to be bothering the youth. Harry studied those silver eyes and worry crept into his mind.

"Are you alright, Raiden?" Harry asked, his voice lilting and smooth. Raiden's eyes widened slightly, and he bowed his head.

"I'm fine, Harry," Raiden assured him, but Harry was not satisfied. Then he remembered something Dumbledore had said, that Draco had been present to help him dispose of Theo Nott.

"What happened between you and your father?" he asked just as gently, and Raiden's eyes flew to meet his.

"How did you…"

"I'm psychic," Harry teased, and patted Raiden's hand. "You can tell me, Raiden?"

There was a lilt at the end of the name that made Raiden understand that Harry was not demanding, but asking. Asking if he was trusted. He did not expect Raiden to spill his soul but would not be upset if the boy decided to. And that subtle request was all it took.

Raiden clutched Harry's hand and began to speak.


	25. Of The Fathers

_**A/N: As always, thank you all! I love you guys! I'm sorry the chapters have started to be so spaced out, with the start of school I've had a lot of trouble, but hopefully I can round this story out before I have to get a job, when I will have even less time!**_

For the first time, Harry saw something other than fear and loneliness shining from Raiden's silver eyes as he spoke of his father. The boy seemed to have been infused with new life, a spirit of hope and contentment that had not been present before. Harry was thrilled to see it.

"He explained everything to me, Harry," Raiden gushed, trying in vain to hide his excitement. "And I believe him, I believe what he says. He… I've never seen my father beg before, and he was begging for my forgiveness, my understanding. I could see the regret in his eyes, the sorrow and the longing. He seemed so… so unlike himself as of late, more like the man I used to know: kind, emotional, loving. He told me that my grandfather threatened to kill me if Father didn't change his ways, didn't become his model son. And he said that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if by giving in to pride and reason he cost me my life. And I think… I think he's telling the truth. He told me that since I was the only thing that mattered to him his father attacked that love, and turned it against him. But he didn't really betray his morals. He did what his father told him, to an extent. But when he was meant to help torture the Order members he was away, and had to convince his father to hold off until he was back, spouting some lies about what he told you, that he wanted you to know that it was your fault. But he faked their deaths. And then after, he wanted to return to the way things were but he said that I didn't want anything to do with him. He said that I hated him. Which wasn't true. But I'll admit that… after… after Theo, I wasn't entirely welcoming to Father's attentions. I blamed him for the marks on my back as well as the marks on my heart. And I suppose I shut him out to try to prevent myself being hurt again." The joy faded from Raiden's eyes as he thought about his part in the schism with his father. "It was my fault he had to be this way these last few years. I turned my back on him the same way he did to me, only it was my choice. I'm amazed that he is able to forgive me."

Harry wiped a tear away from Raiden's eyes with his thumb, cupping the youth's face to pull him against himself. He wrapped his arms around the mournful youth and clucked. "Raiden, Raiden, don't blame yourself. You were young and you were wounded, you reacted in a way that is only natural. You were abandoned by the one person you thought would be there for you, and you sought protection behind the walls you had to erect. There is no way your father could blame you for trying to protect yourself. He tried to do the same thing. Do not fret, Raiden, you and your father are now at an understanding. You can still salvage your relationship. He is, apparently, a good man. As much as it seems weird for me to say," Harry admitted.

Raiden pulled away and met Harry's eyes, silver meeting green in perfect understanding. "I bet it is a lot to take in, suddenly feeling like you should be indebted to the one man you've let yourself hate for so long."

Harry allowed a small smile. "You're too perceptive by half," he muttered, and ruffled Raiden's hair. "Am I that transparent?"

Raiden chuckled through the thickness in his throat that was easing with every word Harry spoke. "No, I just…" Raiden's voice trailed off. There were no words needed. They were in perfect sync. How do you tell someone that you feel like you can see into their soul?

Harry bit his lip. "Yeah. I… it's hard. I don't know how to react. I've felt so much hatred, pain, fear, sorrow, for so long, that to suddenly have none of it, it's overwhelming. I have lost no one. Yet I have mourned for five years. To be honest," Harry sighed. "I feel a little ridiculous. If I hadn't kept myself so very secluded I would have known years ago the truth. But…"

Harry swallowed his next words as the Healers bustled in, all hives of activity and glee, thrilled that they were part of the rediscovery and recovery of The Harry Potter. They all had a kind word to offer him, and all had stories to share. Harry smiled and nodded as they chatted away, the whole while watching to gauge Raiden's reaction. If the boy was to be around him, he would probably have to get accustomed to Harry getting this type of attention, at least for the time being.

Raiden smiled and laughed with the Healers, perfectly at ease around all the activity. He even gained his fair share of audience, his charms melting the Healers and making them eager to ensure his comfort as well. The one who had been answering his summons was there, giving him grins and patting his shoulders.

But neither Raiden nor Harry noticed the man who slipped into the room with the hive of Healers who was no such thing. He looked from behind shuttered eyes as the pair of patients (for the Healers were certainly hovering over Raiden as though he were a patient) laughed and teased, acting as though they hadn't a care in the world. Draco's eyes watched attentively, wanting desperately to make his presence known, yet so very afraid to do just that. He wanted to treasure Harry's happiness as long as he could before disrupting it.

The Healers, having completed the tests they had to run and renewed Harry's treatments, bustled out, and Draco slipped out with them, Harry and his son none the wiser.

Harry grinned at Raiden. "I think you've made some fans," he teased, and the younger man scoffed.

"I did not! They're just very nice."

"Riight," Harry drawled, chucking Raiden beneath the chin. "You're a regular Malfoy, I'll tell you that."

Raiden grinned, for the first time in so long letting himself be proud to be compared to his father. "What can I say," he returned good-naturedly. "I am my father's son."

Harry woke up hours later, sleep still tugging at his mind but determined to overcome it. Something felt different. Something was wrong.

He forced his eyes open and scanned the room quickly. The room had been darkened because both he and Raiden had been asleep. So what had awoken him? Raiden's breath was soft and steady, and there were no alarms or unusual noises anywhere else in the building. None that he could hear, anyway. So what had made him shrug off his sleep potions and wake up? Just a feeling? An emotion?

Harry's eyes fell on the sleeping youth and he found his answer.

The others' face was drawn and held the weight of exhaustion, and his silver hair shone like unicorn's blood in the moonlight. Harry's hand reached out seemingly with a mind of its own and drew a lock of that brilliant hair into his fingers, letting the silken threads slide through his grasp and savoring the texture.

That hair which was far too pale to be young Raiden's.

Draco came awake with a start, his eyes flying wide when he realized Harry had caught him. He had come into the room thinking that Harry would be asleep for much longer because of the potions, but had certainly not intended to fall asleep. He had just wanted to watch the dark one sleep, assuring himself that he had done the right thing and that Harry was alive and well. But having been so tense and so nervous for so long he had been unable to sleep, until the moment when he had reclined in the chair to watch Harry sleep. He'd wanted for so long to be able to watch steady breathing lift Harry's chest, wanted for so long to be able to watch Harry rest in peace, without the nightmares to torment him. And now that he had succeeded, he intended to savor it. Alas, sleep had overwhelmed his exhausted frame, and the nights without sleeping had assaulted him with a vengeance. He had slept.

He stood carefully, watching Harry's eyes for any signs of recognition or fury. The dark one had no reason to trust him completely. Harry had no reason to be forgiving, despite his hatred being unfounded for the reasons he thought. Draco was still responsible for the four year self-imposed exile Harry had been made to endure. Draco was the one who had failed to inform the other of his plans to save the others.

Yet there was no hatred in Harry's peaceful eyes.

Perhaps, Draco thought with mingling relief and dismay, Harry was mistaking him for his son, who looked so much like himself?

"You do not have to leave yet," Harry murmured, his voice unsure and low. Draco froze, trying in vain to find words.

"I understand everything more fully now, and do not blame you for what happened. I was the one who was too stubborn to listen to reason."

So Harry knew who he was.

Briefly Draco wondered if he was dreaming, but discounted that quickly. If he had been dreaming, he would have flung himself into Harry's open arms by then.

"I am willing to listen, if you are willing to talk," Harry drawled, his voice gaining a teasing lilt. He was challenging Draco's continued silence. "Or perhaps you simply want me to draw my own conclusions on the matter?"

Draco finally managed to unstick his tongue and stutter out a response. "You're awake," he blurted dumbly, and winced. His voice exploded through the silent room like a gun blast.

Harry smiled, nodding. Draco could see the temptation to laugh dancing in the dark one's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Draco muttered, lowering his voice. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and licked his lips. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Tell me that you didn't betray all of those people."

Draco let out a pained choke. "I didn't. I didn't betray anyone but that man who called himself my father. I would never…" he bit his words back, afraid of saying them, then knew that it was too late for fear, too selfish to let his fears hide the truth. "I would never betray you, Harry. I never wanted to see you hurt. It was my father, you have to know it was my father. He… I had to think about ou… my son. I had to protect Raiden. And by protecting him, I had to neglect him, and I had to regain my reputation as a bastard. I…"

"Who is his mother?" Harry bit out, and Draco felt the weight of bitterness and pain slam into him. He lowered his head.

"I can't tell you that right now, Harry. I'm sorry. But I just don't see how it's…"

"You were supposed to be _with me_ when you were apparently off filling some woman with your son. You told me that you…"

"Don't you dare!" Draco snapped, fury licking at his mind and heart. "You don't understand what I'm saying!"

"No, I understand. You're saying you were ashamed of me, of us. You were ashamed of being yourself, or was it that you were leading me on? I never wanted anything from you, Draco, save honesty, and I wanted you to be there for me. I never expected you to proclaim yourself as my lover. We never were that, were we? So what, pray tell, were we? Were we just friends? Because I would have been fine with that, damn it, if you had only been honest with me! I never wanted to be more with you, I never needed anything but your love as a friend, but when we became a bit more, that was even better. I could have lived as being your friend just as I could have lived as being your… your… I don't even know what to call what you pretended we were! But then you snuck behind my back, and… had a _son_ with this woman, this woman who you loved so much when your son asked you of her you turned inward. You snuck around and didn't tell me you had a son. Seven years, you had a son. And never told me."

"Just when did you expect me to tell you!" Draco exploded, and his fury rose to clash with Harry's. "I wanted you to be a part of his life more than anything in the world, but then when I mentioned having a child you completely blew the idea off."

"That was twenty years ago!" Harry growled.

"No, Harry, it was seventeen! Seventeen years ago, I offered a way for the two of us to have a child together. You remember the spell? It would transform one of our… bodies… into that of a woman long enough to extract an egg which could be met with the other's sperm. Then the fertilized egg would be placed into a select female, and then would be born _as our son_. But you _laughed_ at me, Harry, you _laughed_. You told me there was no way you were going to be a woman just so you could have a child, that you were content without children. You told me that we were too young to make a commitment like that, that one of us one day may decide he wasn't ready to be with another man. But… but the reason I didn't tell you about Raiden, Harry, was because by the time I had offered up the idea to you I had already begun the process. You thought the sperm was for medical research, but it was to fertilize the egg I'd extracted. I didn't tell you about Raiden because you never wanted him. You never wanted to be a part of our son's life."

Harry was on his feet and didn't remember how he'd gotten there. His hands were curled into fists, confusion and fury and pain lancing through his every nerve. He wanted desperately to come to another conclusion but the one that was staring him in the face was too obvious.

"Raiden… is… Raiden is my son?" he finally managed to sputter out, too afraid to speak it lest Draco laugh in his face. Could it really be true?

Draco gave a mock bow. "I suppose, technically, yes, you are his father. I am his 'mother'. Raiden is the result of a spell and our DNA. I did the spell against your wishes. That is why I never told you about him."


	26. And Alienates

_**A/N: The moment of truth! I ruffled a few feathers last chapter, hopefully this chappy will smooth them again. Thank you all for your reviews, I love them:-D**_

Draco wasn't sure what kind of reaction he expected. He knew that Harry had every right to be furious. Draco had gone against his wishes and tricked him into having a son he never wanted or intended to have. And now, to have that son thrown in his face so brutally, to have to learn of his existence so far removed from his birth…

Draco knew in that moment, as he thought about all of the mistakes he had made, that he would never hope to be able to regain Harry's trust. He had lied and schemed behind Harry's back, and in return he would receive his just punishment: scorn and hatred from the other.

He hadn't realized he was crying until he felt Harry's thumb brush away the tears. He tensed with that small touch, fearing what was to come next, fearing Harry's wrath.

"Raiden is my son?" Harry whispered, his fingers curling gently around the back of Draco's neck. He captured the pale man's eyes with his own, and the intensity he met with made him want to turn away. Fear and confusion were dominant in Draco's eyes, yet there was a healthy dose of pride and challenge there, too.

"Yes," Draco replied, in a voice that was carefully devoid of emotion. He poured his soul into his eyes and let Harry see it, fearing what the other would do with it but offering it anyway.

A smile flicked across Harry's lips. "I have a son."

Draco's brow furrowed, and he nodded slightly. This was not what he'd expected. The look in Harry's eyes was kind, and forgiving, and… dared he think it? Loving.

"I… I have a son. I have a son, with you. Our son. Raiden is…"

Draco could see the excitement bubbling up in Harry, and wondered if he was imagining things. Could Harry truly be this eager to accept a sixteen-year-old son into his life?

Suddenly Harry's arms closed around Draco, and shock made Draco stand ramrod stiff. Yet even that could not dissuade Harry. He let out a little whoop of delight into Draco's shoulder, and kissed the blond on the cheek. "Raiden is my son," he repeated, and gave Draco the most brilliant of smiles. "Raiden, that wonderful boy, is my son!"

Draco dared to let himself smile. He returned the embrace hesitantly, and was encouraged when, as his arms locked behind Harry's back, the other did not pull away.

But the joy was short lived. Draco felt doubt creeping into Harry, and didn't object when the dark one pulled away. "Does he know?" Harry asked, and fear peppered his eyes. Draco shook his head reluctantly, and Harry withdrew completely, huddling into himself.

"He won't be happy about it," Harry predicted ominously, and shook his head. "To… to suddenly have not the mother that he'd dreamt of, but another father, whom he hardly knows…"

"Harry, Harry," Draco interjected gently, his hands reaching out to clasp Harry's arms. "Listen to me. You are the first person he's ever graced with a smile in too long. He adores you, Harry. You should have seen the look on his face when he thought you were injured. He refused to leave your side. The only way I could pull him away is by threatening to have him drugged if he didn't go get some rest at home. He wasn't happy about it, either. But the one thing I do know is this: he loves you, even though he's only known you for so short a time, he adores you more… more than he ever did me. You are his hero, Harry, and he would not trade you for a whole world of female incubators."

Harry chuckled at that. "Female incubators?" he questioned, and Draco hid his eyes.

"No woman on earth could mean more to Raiden and I than you do. Any woman who happened to be his mother would have abandoned him at birth for me to have raised him. Thus she would simply be an icubator. But… but you. You're willing to take him in, accept him as your own son, even though he is already nearly an adult."

"A son doesn't stop being a son when he hits seventeen," Harry snapped, and Draco held his hands up in surrender.

"I am quite aware of that, but you would be surprised how many men would not want a sixteen year old son. Obviously you and I are not those men. But my point is, you do not simply grudge me the sixteen years I have had him. You want to be a part of what you can."

Harry's eyes met and clashed with silver. "You could have told me," he whispered after a long moment, and once again Draco bowed his head.

"You did not think you were ready for such a commitment. You told me that you may decide you did not desire to stay with me forever. I understood that. You were…"

"No!" Harry exploded, and his fingers curled into fists. "I didn't say I wasn't prepared to commit, I was only afraid you weren't. I didn't want to give you my heart and have you not reply in kind. If I had let myself commit to a child, then whenever you decided you were tired of having a family with me you would leave and I would be stuck with a constant reminder of who I'd lost. And it was as I'd feared, he looks just like you. I would have been…"

"The same reasons that made you withdraw made me sneak behind your back," Draco interrupted, finally understanding. "I, too, feared that one day you would feel compelled to settle down with a nice witch somewhere, and so I wanted to have a child with you as a reminder, because I wanted to always have a part of you with me. I did the spells to have Raiden so that I could have a part of you forever, even if you left me. It would seem that our fears were both motivation, but to quite opposite ends."

"But in the end, we were both fools, weren't we?" Harry questioned at length.

"I had thought to surprise you, and I had hoped it would be a good surprise, so I made sure it would work before I brought it up, because I didn't want to get your hopes up. But… then you laughed the idea off, and it was already under way, and I could not bear to destroy the growing life that I had so foolishly created. I intended to tell you, Harry, but I… I was too afraid. I couldn't bear to lose you. And I was willing to raise him on my own. I loved him, because he was a part of us. I was going to tell you, each day, but I knew that you would not forgive me for going behind your back. To have started such a permanent process, to have done something so selfish…"

Harry once again drew the blond into his arms, and Draco dropped his head onto Harry's shoulder. "I was so afraid of losing you, Harry Potter, that I lied to you."

Harry stroked Draco's silken locks, shaking his head. "I am sorry that you were afraid of coming to me, Draco. I would have hoped you would have learned to trust me in the time you had known me. I would have loved our son well, despite having not known of him. I would have loved any part of you that I could. You were my whole world, Draco, and I would have loved to have shared his life with you."

Draco snuffed against Harry's shoulder, and clutched the other a bit tighter. "If only I had known this then. I would have shouted the birth of our son from the tops of the highest buildings, and told the entire world of our love."

The door clicked, and the pair pulled away abruptly, their startled eyes darting to the doorway to seek out their visitor. Raiden stood there, garbed in fresh clothes and with his fluffy hair sticking out in a thousand directions. Harry's eyes probed the youth's for any signs of his having heard the conversation. Overhearing a conversation between his fathers was no way to learn of his parentage.

"What are you saying, Father?" Raiden rasped, and Harry's fears were confirmed. The youth had heard, and fury danced in his silver eyes.


	27. The Son

**_A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay you guys! And I'm sorry if it's getting tiresome, I'm having a little bit of trouble. Some nice encouraging reviews from my dear readers may help me out a little, though! ;-) I was so downtrodden when these new developments put a few people off the story:-( Anyway, on with the criminally short next chapter!_**

Draco clawed about for words but was unable to find any. His eyes searched Harry's wary features, and saw that one wrong word could send his world spiraling out of control, and cause him to lose either his son, his love, or both. If he blurted out his and Harry's relationship, Raiden could become agitated and the newfound trust they had begun to nurture could shatter. But if he denied his own words, he could shut down the old emotions Harry had only just let loose again. Also, if Raiden panicked, Harry would blame himself and withdraw. And if Draco lied about his relationship, not only would Harry be offended but Raiden would surely know he was lying and that trust, again, would shatter.

Draco carefully gathered words he thought would lessen the blow. He let his tongue caress the words with practiced Malfoy poise, and yet still sounded like a bumbling idiot even to himself.

"Raiden, Harry and I have a bit of a history. In the past, we were… we were in love. Harry and I have a… strange relationship. We are not lovers, but we're more than just friends. Even we don't really understand exactly what we were to each other…" he let his voice trail off and hesitantly clasped Harry's hand, and the dark wizard gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "What we are to each other. Raiden, Harry is your… father. There is a… there is a spell which can make such things possible. We are both your father."

Raiden stared between the two for a long moment, then blinked hard, shaking his head. "This doesn't make any sense," he growled, and Draco held a hand out to him.

"I understand that you will need time to understand and to come to terms with…"

"So you're… you're gay."

Draco winced. "I suppose to an extent that is correct. I am in love with a man. But I do not regularly find men attractive."

Raiden shook his head again, and bit his lip. "And you?" he asked, for the first time directly addressing Harry.

Harry nodded slowly, not daring to speak, lest his words betray his tumultuous emotions.

Raiden grimaced, and took a step away. "This is… this is too weird. I don't… I thought that you were just trying to distract Nott when you said all of that stuff about loving my father."

Harry cast his eyes away and cleared his throat, knowing there was no gesture that would clearly convey what he wanted to say. "I was trying to distract him. But what I said was true. I am in love with your father."

"But you… you _are_ my father. What do I… who do I call 'father?' Should I call one of you 'mother'? This is just way too weird. I don't understand. This… makes no sense."

"I know, Raiden, and I'm sorry that you had to find out this way," Draco soothed. "I would rather for you to have…"

"Been ignorant for the rest of my life?" Raiden snapped, and his eyes shot daggers at his fathers. "You wouldn't have told me, would you? Not if you could have helped it."

"That's not true! I was only…"

"Waiting for the opportune moment?" Raiden challenged, cocking a brow. "Like, when you were dying or something? When exactly is considered a good time to come out to your son? To tell him that you are in love with another man, and that said man was his other father? Not exactly one of those heart-to-heart kind of things."

"Raiden, please. Try to understand…"

"No, Father, YOU try to understand. I have asked you so many times to tell me who my mother was, because I thought she was dead. And here you had a living breathing… partner… the whole time! You could have told me, Father. Why did you hide this from me!"

"Because I was afraid of this! This reaction! I thought I raised you to be more tolerant, Raiden…"

"First of all!" Raiden bellowed, interrupting with a growl. "It isn't that you're gay that has me so upset. It's that you've known this for sixteen years and you've hidden it from me. How can I ever trust you, Father? You are too many people! You are a wonderful father and yet a bastard, and a liar and yet perfectly honest, and evil yet good. Who are you really? I will never know! You hide everything from me, and I feel like I'm digging at a cage of steel just to figure out your true intentions. And secondly," he spat, fury making his skin twitch on his arms and fingers. He clenched his hands into fists to attempt to hide the effect, but to no avail. "You never taught me much of anything, what with having to grovel to your father. Left no time for me."

With that stinging slap in the face, Raiden pivoted and fled the room, Draco still reeling and Harry knowing that his interference would be far from welcome. He watched the youth flee, pain and regret making his heart ache, and knowing that no matter how deeply he was hurting, Draco must be feeling it thirty times more. Draco's body seemed to be etched from stone for several long moments before he seemed to suddenly deflate, and only Harry's quick action kept him upright. Harry swept an arm around his waist and pulled Draco's limp form against himself. He murmured softly as he helped Draco to the bed, hoping to smooth over the damage he had helped create.

"It's alright, Draco, Raiden is a good boy, he'll understand in time."

"No, he's right," Draco moaned. "I had no right to keep this from you. From either of you. It was wrong. I was being so selfish. I was playing with your lives, trying to make mine better, but only ended up ruining yours. How could I have been so stupid?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, Draco. And what if he is right? What are you going to do about it? You can't just sit here and lament the loss of your son. You have to do something about it."

"What do I do?" Draco snapped, his eyes instantly lit with fury. "Go chasing after him and drag him home by the hair like some naughty little boy?"

"Or," Harry argued calmly. "You could go to him and beg his forgiveness."

"I do not deserve it."

"No, you don't." Harry agreed gently, hoping his words did not wound the other too terribly. "What you have done is wrong. But your son deserves to have his father."

Draco's humiliation made him angry. "You're saying…"

"I will not cater to your self-loathing and ploys for forgiveness. You made some pretty serious mistakes, Draco, and now you must live up to the consequences. You must work to regain your son's trust."

"Yet you do not scorn me for my mistakes?" Draco asked hopefully, suddenly realizing the rather obvious fact that Harry had not fled as well.

"I cannot say that I agree with your actions, but I have for too long spent my time hating you for crimes you did not commit. I have spent all the bitterness I will ever feel. Now I will stand beside you, despite these newfound offenses. I was miserable for those five years I lived without you by my side. I do not wish to relive that misery."

Draco's eyes were tormented as he watched the dark haired wizard. "I have been such a fool. Always such a fool."

"I will agree that your actions always seem to hint at such," Harry declared dramatically, and ducked to avoid Draco's only halfway teasing swing.

Author's Request: In your next review, tell me whether you want to see the darling duo Harry and Draco together. Whether I go with or against the popular vote is yet to be determined. ;-) I may go against it just to ruffle some feathers. (grin)


	28. Until In His Fury The Truth Is Known

For nigh on a week Raiden had been gone. Draco had feared that in that respect his son had taken after his other father, in being able to disappear whenever he wanted. Yet this time there was no Secret-Keeper to watch over him. Raiden was alone in the world, with neither of his fathers or any supplies or money to help him. Raiden had left his coin purse when he'd fled, and had not returned for it. The pair of worried fathers had even made it easy for him; they had left it out in the open where Raiden could easily sneak in and reclaim it, and vowed not to try to capture him should he do such a thing.

Quite against their own will.

Finally, they had agreed to give him that chance. Yet neither father was able to be dissuaded from launching out on his trail as soon as the boy left the room, should the chance arise. The others had had a hard enough time managing to make them wait even that long.

But Raiden had not returned for the money.

And during that week the pair of anxious fathers had planned very carefully for the day they were able to find their lost offspring. Despite their fear of scaring Raiden into feeling hunted, the pair searched tirelessly.

Draco, when not stressing terribly over his missing son, was marveling at the miracle that was his precious Harry. He wasn't sure how Harry managed it. Every time he thought the world was coming to an end, Harry Potter swept in and made everything seem just right again. He knew that somewhere out there his son was furious with him, but curled up in Harry's comforting embrace he could no longer remember what exactly about that predicament had so upset him. His son was a reasonable boy, he would come around in time.

Yet whenever he was alone to think, somewhere deep within his breast, he felt a great whale of doubt. What if Raiden did not forgive him? His offences were rather extensive. The severity of his lies and obfuscations was such that Raiden wouldn't have to be simply reasonable, he would have to be a saint. Draco's heart ached for his son but he could not let it overcome him. For the sake of his future with Harry, he had to have faith. He had to believe that Harry would do his best and he had to believe in the goodness of his son.

It was not until the day before the first week was to end that Harry truly began to hope that he could once more regain that comfortable familiarity that he and Draco had once shared. He knew that it was the small things that mattered, like the fact that whenever he touched Draco, no matter how chaste the touch was, he was always rewarded with a brilliant smile. Even if he only gripped the blond one's shoulder, that smile appeared. Inside, he shuddered every time. Draco's smile had the unique ability to melt his heart into a useless puddle of goo. Harry often mused that the instant Raiden forgave his fathers and returned home, Draco's smile would give Harry a heart attack, such was the power of that gentle curve of lips.

Not that he told Draco that. The blonde's ego was already an indomitable force. He needed no encouragement to become a bigheaded twerp.

Harry sighed. They were getting nowhere in their search. The young Malfoy had well and truly disappeared. Draco shifted slightly, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He had scarcely slept through the past week, so worried by his son's disappearance was he. Never before had he vanished without any word for so long. And when he had, he had been quite easy to track.

"You're positive you didn't have any lessons on vanishing during the time the pair of you were together?" Draco questioned with a yawn, and Harry gave him mockingly narrowed eyes.

"Yes, darling, quite so."

Draco chuckled and leaned back against the arm of the couch they were sprawled on. "You don't have to be such a tease," he chided, and winked devilishly.

Harry laughed. "I am no such thing!" he amended warmly. "You're the bloody tease!"

"I, Draco Malfoy, a tease!" the blond gasped incredulously. "I am not!"

Harry wrinkled his nose, plainly showing his objection to that statement.

Draco grinned, a quick flash of pearly teeth, before wiggling his eyebrows and sitting upright. "You want to see a tease, Harry Potter?"

Harry's heart hitched at the hungry expression dominating the blonde's handsome features. He fought to control the sudden fear and desire coursing through him, not wanting to let Draco know just how extensively the blonde's teasing affected him.

"I see a tease every time I look at you," Harry returned, and was relieved to find that his voice did not quaver as he'd feared.

Draco slowly moved himself to a kneeling position on the far couch cushion, then dropped to all fours and began to crawl toward Harry across the extended couch. His movements may as well have been liquid, for all the grace he spilled into each movement of his limbs. He, in that moment, seemed to possess far more numerous muscles and joints than any wizard was meant to possess; his motions were as smooth and seamless as a cat. Suddenly Harry felt as though that was exactly what the blond was, a tiger on the prowl, and Harry was but a tasty morsel for him to devour, body and soul. Desire coursed through him and shot straight to his groin, making him ache for the blond in a way he never had before.

A slow, languid smile curved Draco's perfect lips, making him seem all the more threatening. That smile was dangerous, deadly. Nations and armies could fall victim to that sexy smirk. As it was, it was all Harry could to not to try and meet Draco halfway. He wanted to dance his tongue across those smirking lips, run his fingertips across that proud chin.

Then suddenly that smile was upon him, and Harry's breath left him. He tried to tear his attention away from the hands that were suddenly pressing against his chest, pressing him backward over the arm of the couch, in order to remember how to breathe. But Draco ensured that that feat was quite impossible. He arched down and ran a hot tongue over Harry's jaw, practically purring as he teased the area around Harry's lips -- cheek, chin, jaw-- with his lips and teeth until Harry whimpered and claimed those elusive lips as his own. Draco let out a victorious grunt and broke away, instead trailing his delicious mouth down Harry's throat, pressing delicately taunting nips and kisses all along Harry's skin as he moved. Harry's head fell back against the couch, his back arching slightly to bring his neck more firmly against Draco's teasing lips.

Draco's skilled fingers were suddenly there, flicking open the buttons of Harry's shirt and caressing the exposed skin there. Harry gasped as Draco's warm hands darted across his bared skin, closely followed by his lips. Draco dipped his head lower, scraping his teeth across Harry's flawless skin, tasting the warm flesh delightedly. Harry shuddered beneath Draco's attentions, sighing his eagerness to feel Draco's lips.

Draco raised his head and grinned wickedly. "A tease would stop right now," he pointed out slyly.

Harry widened his eyes and growled. "You bloody well better not be a tease, Draco Malfoy," he threatened, and jerked Draco's mouth against his own. Draco smiled against his love's lips and nodded.

"Your wish is my command."

* * *

The delicate tinkling of glass drew him rapidly from his slumber. Warmth surrounded him, and the puff of breath against his neck sent trills of shivers racing across his skin. He forced his startled heart to still, calmed the rapid hoof beats of his veins, then turned his attention to the shattered mirror.

A thousand tiny shards of glass danced their way across the tabletop, still in the midst of descent. The thought of why they were still falling when the sound of them falling was what had awakened him did not cross his sleepy mind. Instead he watched them settle on the tabletop; all, that is, save one. A single sliver of glass remained, dangling tauntingly in the air. His eyes narrowed as he watched the single splinter of glass dance before it joined its brothers on the tabletop. He knew that a witch or wizard must have been behind the peculiar events immediately, but who?

After several moments it hit him, and he smiled slowly. The glass had been a summons, intended solely for him. And he intended to answer the call, alone.

Carefully he disentangled himself from his lover's grasp, pushing the pale arms from his abdomen. A moan of objection bubbled up from the sleeping one's throat, and brought still to his movements. When sleep had once again claimed the other's mind, he began to move away. Shrugging into his jeans and t-shirt, he snagged the blonde's heavy cloak as he slid out the door silently.

* * *

His eyes roved the monolithic cliff, annoyance pricking his eyes tight. The chill of the wind seemed to pierce straight through the cloak he'd tugged about his shoulders, causing his skin to pale and his lips to shudder. He growled his frustrations as he trudged his way up the daunting cliff, cursing for the first time in a long time his lack of practice with magic. The ease of apparation was a tantalizing thing; this biting cold was not a welcome visitor. Despite his former resistance to the weather, his time inside the warmth of a building and a night in his lover's arms had deprived him of his cavalier approach to discomfort.

It is hard to ignore the agony that had previously been perceived as numbness when bliss was so close at hand.

He was about thirty feet from the lip of his cave when the wash of magic swept over him. He let out a thin growl, perturbed by the unrestrained wave. Raiden certainly had strength within him, and said strength was currently trickling about unheeded.

He clamored up the last stretch of hill with no regard for his own comfort. Raiden must be terribly distressed to allow his otherwise tightly controlled magic to rage so.

He topped the lip of his cave and peered in, worry creasing his brow. "Raiden," he rasped, and shuddered at the hoarseness of his own voice.

"You came." The whispered words seemed to slither across his very skin, and he shivered once more.

"Of course I did."

"Why?"

Indecision tugged at Harry. Dare he mention their newfound kinship? He was not sure what the wounded boy wanted to hear. In the end, the truth won out, and he blurted his true thoughts.

"Because you're the first person to bother to believe in me in five years," he stated, and eyed the darkness warily when no response was forthcoming. He opened his mouth to ask after his son but a weakly hoarse laugh erupted before he could.

"You did not come out of sudden fatherly attachment?"

Harry cocked his head curiously. "When I first met you I took you for an enemy. Then I found out who you were. Before long I considered you a friend, and when you depended on me for help, you became like a son to me. There was nothing sudden about my attachment to you. True, I felt attached to you the moment we began to truly talk, but there does not seem to be anything sudden about even that."

Raiden coughed softly, and Harry heard him shifting uncomfortably. The urge to run into the depths of the drafty cave nearly overwhelmed him, but he resisted. He would not move until he was invited. He would not make Raiden feel cornered.

"It's funny that not long ago I stared into this very cave in much the same way as you do now, with hatred and longing toward my father pulsing through my veins. Now I feel none of those emotions, but I am not sure what I feel. I do not know whether to be relieved or angry… You do not have to stand there so silently, come in where the wind can't get you."

Harry eased his way into the cave and could not resist the slight sigh of relief that spilled between his lips as the wind was forced to release its chilling grip on him. He scanned the depths of darkness warily; he could not yet see well enough to discern Raiden's location.

"Tell me what I should feel, Harry," Raiden requested softly, and Harry's gaze flicked to the side. There he saw the vague outline of his son, huddled against the very wall he had sought as his salvation so many times.

Harry didn't know what to say. He did not want to lie to the boy, but the truth was terrible.

"Tell me the truth. What would you feel?"

Harry sighed.

"I would be pissed. I would feel betrayed and confused. I would be a little grossed out. I would feel like someone had been hiding a very important part of themselves from me and I had just found out, and that would be hell for me."

"And what would you do with those feelings?"

"I… I would lash out."

Raiden knew precisely where Harry was going, but played into his ploy willingly. He needed to hear that what Harry spoke was the truth. "How?"

"I would find a way to punish those that had hurt me. Something that would make them go crazy with guilt and despair. Something that would make them ache and burn and wish they'd told me. Something that they would not forget, something to humiliate and torment them."

"Like?"

Harry blew a breath out slowly. "Like leave for a week and make them agonize over what may have happened to me."

Raiden huffed.

"Raiden, you could have been killed and neither of us would have known. We were worried sick about you. You had no money, no food, no coat or any protection…"

"How is my father taking my flight? Is he furious with me?"

Harry sighed. "At this point, I believe you could set off a nuclear bomb in his precious study and he would not care so long as you were safe. Your father…"

"I'm sorry, which father do you mean?"

Harry cleared his throat carefully to prevent his voice from trembling. The wounded youth was not giving him any ground. "Draco has been worried that you would not forgive him. He has not been able to sleep in days. The only times he has not been worrying or passed out in exhaustion from worrying he has been driving half of the wizarding world mad searching for you."

"How have you been taking my flight?" Raiden asked slowly, letting Harry know that the next few words he uttered would most likely be the most important.

Harry lowered his head to shield the youth from the tears that were threatening to well in his eyes. "I have been feeling like the most terrible person on earth for betraying and hurting the only person who's let me into his life in five years. I have been feeling like the most selfish ass in the universe for allowing your father to claim our… connection again after so long. He has never before proclaimed our relationship so boldly before. He has always tried to hedge and hide me. Yet he told you the truth to your face, and I should have known he would. He loves you dearly, Raiden, and would rather die than hide this from you any longer. He trapped us both into being what we are, but I have forgiven him, because I care too much about you to let you go without a fight."

Raiden shifted again, and though he let out a cough, Harry could hear the sniff he tried to hide.

Harry lowered his head. "Is it me, Raiden? Do you scorn him now because it is me?"

Raiden sniffled again and Harry, his eyes newly adjusted to the shadowy depths of the cave, saw him wipe at his eyes.

"Raiden, tell me honestly. Do you scorn your father simply because you find that your other parent is me? Would it be better if it were some other? Or is it that I am a man?"

Raiden dropped his head onto his knees. "It's you," he whispered, the rough edge of tears choking his voice. "It's because it's you."


	29. And The End Is In Sight

_**A/N: Sorry about that non-chapter, I forgot they weren't allowed. And sorry this wasn't posted already. In case you didn't read the non-chapter, I'll review: I'm SO sorry:-P Thank you for sticking with me, and I'm sorry I couldn't post this a long time ago when it would have meant something heh. This is the last chapter. But I'll have another fic, Punished, which I am pretty happy with thus far and hope to be able to write faster than I post so that I can finish it before I run out of steam and inspiration. (though I got a pretty disheartening review already, and it's only posted to chapter 3!) Wish me luck! Oh, yeah, and I promised to have this up over a week ago, but then the internet at the library DIED on me! So I was stuck with no internet and a promise I had no way of keeping, which has made me feel TERRIBLE! So sorry my pretties. :-D**_

**_On with the last chapter!_**

Harry rocked back on his heels and felt his heart plummet. He'd offered the suggestion in hopes of spurring Raiden into emphatic objections to the contrary, not into agreeing. He had assumed that the youth's feelings toward him had not changed in the last week, and the knowledge that they had, the knowledge that the boy only resented his father's actions so much because of him, tore through him more effectively than a bullet to the chest at close range. The rejection of the youth was paralyzing.

For a long moment Harry couldn't even breathe, and when his mind finally registered that he needed air, the most he could manage was a ragged gasp of frigid air before his throat once more tightened with the pain of rejection and remorse.

Raiden made no move to break the ever-thickening silence. Harry could hear his soft breath, could hear the occasional snuffle and see the growing frequency with which the youth wiped his eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity to both of them, Harry released his breath and the tears he had been holding in. "So that's it, then," Harry ground out, struggling to regain his composure in the face of his son's rejection. "That's why you called me out here? To tell me to leave your father alone?"

Through his mounting resentment he did not hear the soft objection Raiden offered.

"You could have been a little kinder about it," he snapped, and wiped at his eyes in frustration as they insisted on spilling brackish tears down his face. "You could have just sent the shards of glass into my heart rather than onto the table. It would have saved me the hope of reconciliation that I nursed desperately on my way here. It would have saved me the humiliation of knowing that your disgust with your father stems from your disgust of me."

Raiden's growing confusion and denial burst from his lips with those words. "Shut up!" he snarled, and Harry snapped out of his bitter reverie to find the youth on his feet, his fists clenched and his body vibrating with fury and indignation.

"It's not about that!" Raiden bellowed, and growled his frustration. "I didn't bring you out here to humiliate you or reject you! I brought you out here because I needed someone to understand me but obviously that was a mistake! I'm not saying that I am disgusted with either you or my… Draco. I'm saying that… DAMNIT this would all be so much easier if you weren't you, if I didn't already care about you! Because if you were someone else, some other man or some other woman, I could just push you away and not have to worry about it, and it would be easier to hate Draco for hiding your identity and easier to hate you for… for not being there! But this, this knowledge that you're you and you're alive, and you're my father! It's… so much more confusing!"

It took several moments for what Raiden was trying to say to sink into Harry's tumultuous thoughts, but when it did, he nearly sagged to the floor in relief.

"I can't… it feels like…" Raiden let out a strangled scream of frustration at his own sudden inability to phrase his concerns right. He dragged a hand across his face and dipped his head. "If you weren't you, then I could be rightfully angry at Draco for what he'd done. But since you're you, all I can feel… I can't help but feel grateful to him for… for bringing you into my life, for making me a part of you, for you being a part of me."

Harry dared not let himself hope that he was interpreting the furious youth's words properly. He cleared his throat carefully and began to question Raiden about his understanding of the matter, but soon found that he had not the words to speak his hope.

"You mean… you're trying to say…" he stammered over his words and was forced to give up, his trembling hands tidying the lines of his clothing.

"I meant that it would be easier for me to hate my father, and you, if you were someone else. I meant… I didn't mean that I scorned my father because of you; on the contrary, I _cannot_, though I would wish to, scorn my father, because my…" he paused, his voice fading out. He began again, hoping to find a way to phrase his thoughts without baring his soul too completely. "You know I wanted…" Still, the words stuck in his throat when he tried to speak them, and his voice died away. "When I came here… the reason I…"

Finally he sighed heavily and blurted his thoughts bluntly, too impatient to dance around the subject. He could not let Harry misunderstand.

"I ran away from my… Draco… because he didn't care about me. Didn't appreciate me. At the time I figured he downright hated me. I resented that he'd let his lackeys abuse me and was tired of being left out and ignored. Part of me hoped that by running away I could prove to both of us that he did care; part of me just knew that he wouldn't give a flying fuck. And then, the most incredible thing happened. I found out what it was like to… to have a healthy relationship with someone. I know that sounds melodramatic… hell, every word I've spoken sounds like something out of a bad soap opera. But even though it was only one day, it was one of… nay, it was _the_ best day of my life. The hours I spent with you, here, just… talking. The time we spent in the city, just… just bullshitting, just enjoying the food and the company. Merlin, but it's incredible the difference just those few hours had on me. I was… I was well and truly _happy_ for the first time in so long. And I can't hate Draco, and I can't be mad at him, and I can't be mad at all, because I'm too damn happy to have you be a part of my life!"

Harry took a moment to try to gather himself. "So why did you stay gone for so long?" he questioned carefully, still not understanding perfectly.

Raiden sighed and ran his fingertips over the stone. "I didn't know how to face you both."

"Where were you before you returned here? We searched here for you constantly. Had a sentry here and everything."

"I was somewhere between here and the manor. I had to think. I only returned here about an hour ago. The sentry may have a bit of a headache, I'm sorry to say."

Harry snorted. "You knocked the sentry out?"

Raiden squinted one eye and scratched his head. "Yeah, I did," he finally admitted. "Am I going to be in trouble?"

Harry strode somewhat closer to Raiden and slid to the floor. "I don't figure so," he replied. "I don't particularly care. I'd have done the same thing. If they try to make a stink over I'll just say it was me and I thought he was someone after you. It's pretty dark, you can never really tell."

The youth smiled.

"You're teaching our son some pretty bad habits," a voice from the entrance suddenly piped up.

Two sets of guilty eyes swiveled to face the newcomer.

Draco strode into the cave with a shudder. Instantly Harry was on edge, scared that Raiden would be uncomfortable in his father's presence. Yet the tension that Harry had been expecting to accompany the third member of their family never arrived. Raiden seemed not to mind his sudden appearance, and Harry relaxed a degree.

"Potter," Draco began scathingly, "Why, exactly, did you feel the need to steal _my _cloak? It's bloody _cold _out there."

"Because, Malfoy," Harry played along, allowing derision to seep into his voice to match the heat of Draco's. "It's bloody _cold _out there." His voice echoed the inflection of Draco's perfectly.

Draco cocked his head. "Fair enough," he agreed, and they both chuckled.

Draco planted himself an equal distance from the others, forming a triangle between the three of them, and eyed his family warily. "We all need to have a talk," he announced.

"Gee, ya think?" Raiden groused.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Did you follow me here?" he asked Draco. He wasn't sure how Raiden would take to the idea.

"No, he invited me," the elder Malfoy responded with a grin, gesturing toward Raiden. "Though I also saw your invitation on the table, that one must have been much more fun to figure out. Mine was simply the note I'd given to Ron of the coordinates of the cave. Though I'm not sure how dear Raiden got it from him…"

Raiden shrugged.

"…but it got me here, and yours got you here, so it would appear our boy here has a pretty good idea of how our minds work."

A snort from the other two was his only response.

"Well, son," Draco continued. "You brought us out into this cold ass cave for a reason, and I am perfectly willing to sit here all night if you so will it."

"You are?" Raiden asked doubtfully, his lips quirking. "Without a cloak?"

Harry shrugged out of the one he'd filched. "I didn't realize you'd need it," he explained, and tossed it to Draco. "Sorry."

Draco caught it reflexively but his brow furrowed. "Well, you may as well wear it."

Harry shook his head. "I'm used to the cold, I'll live."

A hard shudder wracked his frame at that moment, and both the blondes snorted doubtfully. "I think you've become a little less used to the cold, love," Draco accused, his eyebrows wiggling.

Harry narrowed his eyes and curled into himself. "Whatever."

Raiden couldn't help but be amused by the spectacle they presented. His heart warmed at the comfortable banter between the two, amazed at the effect being around Harry had on his father. He was much more relaxed around Harry, and the result was definitely a pleasant one.

He was no longer a tight-assed prick.

Draco's amused voice brought him out of his contemplations. "It looks like our son is thinking pretty hard," he pointed out. "He must get that skill from you. I certainly never could keep my attention on one thing that long."

Harry threw his hands up, frustration etched into every line of his face. "Jesus, Draco, do you _really_ think you should be rubbing it in his face that we're both his father?"

Draco tossed the cloak back to Harry with a wink. "That's not the problem," he replied confidently. "He's just mad at me, not at you. I'll wager he's probably pleased as hell not to have just a tight-assed prick like me as a father any longer."

Considering the fact that his own thoughts had just strayed along the very same lines, Raiden chose not to correct him, despite the slight variation in their meanings.

"Draco, would you please!"

"What!" he crowed defensively. "It's true."

Harry tossed a look at Raiden, and when he received only a small smile in return, he let it drop.

"Just put the fucking cloak on, you'll catch your death out here," Harry grumbled, and threw the cloak back to Draco.

Draco narrowed his eyes but turned his attention to Raiden. "I'm sorry, Raiden, for all of my foolish secrecy. I know I should have told you from the start, I should have told both of you everything. But I can't change that now, and I've learned from my mistakes, and I swear to you that I _will_ try to be a better father to you. I can't make up for all of my past mistakes but I will try my damndest to avoid new ones, and avoid repeating the old ones of course."

Raiden nodded slowly, weighing the sincerity of his father's words. "Forgiven," he agreed, and they both grinned. "I've had two weeks to think on it, and I'll wager I've spent all of my teenaged tantrums for the time being. I've decided to try to make the best of this and take things one day at a time."

"Raiden, don't feel as though you have to suddenly accept this all at once. You have the right to be hurt," Harry assured the youth gently. Then his patience snapped. "Just put the fucking cloak on, Draco!" he burst out.

Raiden snorted. "I know I don't _have _to, but I want to _try_."

Draco tossed Raiden a pleased smile before he turned his attention back to the cloak still in his hands. "No sir. You wear it." He threw it at Harry, and it connected with a dull _whump_ as it wrapped itself around Harry's face.

Raiden laughed outright, then. Their bickering, coupled with their easy body language and the frustration evident in both their faces, washed away his own reticence and anger. He let his frustrations slither away under the wash of his amusement, and let himself be comforted by the presence of his parents.

Harry clawed the cloth away from his face. "Draco, just…"

"Just both of you wear it!" Raiden exploded, mimicking their frustration in his voice.

Draco and Harry both looked at him, cowed. "We're sorry," they both murmured at the same moment. Raiden's amusement doubled.

"I'm serious!" he clarified with a laugh. "Just sit next to each other and put it over both your shoulders."

The two exchanged looks.

"Oh," they both echoed. "Yeah, that'll work."

Raiden rolled his eyes.

They shuffled closer to each other, then Draco stilled and shot Raiden a teasing glance. "You may want to leave the cave for this, son," he warned.

Raiden's eyes widened and he shot to his feet. "Oh, _gross_, dad!" he sputtered, laughter choking him. "That is _so_ not a mental image I need in my head. Bad brain! Bad, bad, bad brain!"

The pair on the ground rolled with laughter. "You shoulda seen your face!" Draco offered. "Oh, gosh!"

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed. "Come on, Draco, you're gonna scare the boy off again."

Raiden pouted. "Hey! You are not!"

His parents grinned deviously. "Score one for the old folks! He's said he won't run off again! Now we can talk."

Raiden plopped to the floor closer to his parents. "You sneaks," he accused, but his amusement was still firmly tugging at his lips. "We all know there's nothing left to talk about. I'm sorry I ran off," he gestured to himself. "You're sorry you lied to me," this to Draco. "You're sorry you went crazy and moved into a cave," to Harry. The three of them snorted at that. "We're all on the same page."

"We're all some sorry sons of bitches, then?" Harry clarified with a grin.

The other two chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so," Raiden agreed.

"Spectacular!" Draco cheered. A bottle of firewhisky and three glasses appeared. He poured two, then eyed his son warily.

"Oh, come on, dad, it's just firewhisky!" Raiden burst out laughingly, gesturing to the third glass.

Harry laughed and tipped the bottle in Draco's hands, forcing a healthy portion of the beverage into the third glass. "We have to have all three full for a toast," he defended himself when Draco looked to him, mockingly scandalized.

"The things you're teaching our son!" he chided. "First knocking men unconscious, then drinking! What next, under aged magic?"

It was Harry's turn to look scandalized. "I would never!" he gushed, then winked at Raiden. Placing his hand against the side of his mouth as though to prevent Draco from hearing him, he whispered dramatically "Once we get home I'll teach you how to…"

Draco punched his arm and handed him a drink. "Come on, children, let's behave like gentlemen."

They shuffled together, Harry tossing the cloak over both himself and Draco. Raiden smiled to see the pair huddle closer.

"What shall we toast to?" Harry asked, smiling hugely.

The three exchanged a devious look.

"To being sorry sons of bitches!" they all cried.

* * *

**_I know, I know, don't kill me, it was cheesy. I'm sorry. But you can read my new story, Punished, which hopefully will not be cheesy, except the part where they're eating pizza, which, being pizza, is cheesy. _**

**_Thank you again for sticking around, my lovelies. If you have made it to this, the end, then I commend you, and thank you. You are the reason I smile when I write._**


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